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OSC A R \A/ I L D E 



DECORATIVE ART 
IN AMERICA 



DECORATIVE ART 
IN AMERICA 

A LECTURE BY 

OSCAR WILDE 

TOGETHER WITH LETTERS 
REVIEWS AND INTERVIEWS 
EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER 



NEW YORK 
BRENTANO'S 

MCMVI 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoplM Received 

OCT 29 1906 

^ Ctyyrliht Entry 

'dLAss A xxc;»nq, 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1906, by 
Brentano's 



THE DE VINNE PRE39 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction vii 

Decorative Art in America i 

Joaquin Miller, the Good Samaritan .... 17 
Mrs. Langtry as Hester Grazebrook .... 23 

"Vera" and the Drama 31 

Mr. Whistler's '' Ten O'Clock " 39 

The Relation of Dress to Art 47 

The Tomb of Keats 55 

Keats' Sonnet on Blue 6^ 

English Poetesses 71 

London Models 87 

"Dorian Gray" and its Critics loi 

Rudyard Kipling and the Anglo-Indians . . .117 

"A House of Pomegranates" 121 

The Relation of the Actor to the Play . .127 

The Censure AND " Salome " 135 

, Paris, the Abode of Artists 145 

Sarah Bernhardt and " Salome " 149 

The Ethics of Journalism 153 

Dramatic Critics and "An Ideal Husband" . . 161 
. Notes 

Introduction 175 

Decorative Art in America 181 

Joaquin Miller, the Good Samaritan 187 

V 



Vi CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Mrs. Langtry as Hester Grazebrook 193 

"Vera" and the Drama 195 

Mr. Whistler's "Ten O'clock" 197 

The Relation of Dress to Art 201 

The Tomb of Keats 205 

Keats' Sonnet on Blue 219 

English Poetesses 229 

London Models 241 

" Dorian Gray " and its Critics 245 

Mr. Kipling and the Anglo-Indians 251 

" A House of Pomegranates " 253 

The Relation of the Actor to the Play 255 

The Censure and "Salome'^ . 257 

Paris, the Abode of Artists 261 

Sarah Bernhardt and " Salome " 263 

The Ethics of Journalism 265 

Dramatic Critics and "An Ideal Husband *' ... 269 
Index 271 



INTRODUCTION 



If it took Labouchere three columns to prove that I was forgot- 
ten, then there is no difference between fame and obscurity. 

— New York Herald^ Sunday, August 12, 188^. 



INTRODUCTION 

If we are content to accept Oscar Wilde at his 
own final valuation and to judge him by the con- 
fession which he has left the world in De Pro- 
fundisy we can apply to him no better epithet than 
The Epicurean, But confessions are at best mis- 
leading. They are tinctured by the exaggera- 
tions of humiHty. They are laden with self-abase- 
ment proportionate to the penitent's desire for 
absolution, rather than to the culpability of the 
malefactor. They confuse things material with 
things spiritual and the sins of the body with those 
of the intellect. Fearful of half-truths, they dis- 
close monstrous untruths, until the spirit of self- 
immolation is glutted and the tortured soul satisfied 
that repentance has no further penance within 
reach. So, with Wilde, it is difficult to believe the 
whole of the ''pitiless indictment which he brings 
against himself." Flaneur and dandy he accuses 



K INTRODUCTION 

himself of being. -^ Flaneur and dandy he may 
have been. But, however profitless his life, must 
his word be wholly without purpose? Surely 
there was something more than mere dilettantism 
in talents so diverse, so brilliantly manifested, so 
exquisitely elusive. For elusive, perplexing, de- 
fiant of definition was he in all that he did — this 
man of genius, Oscar Wilde par excellence The 
Protean. The Protean — for we embrace the singer 
of songs to find that we have seized upon the 
cynic ; we seek to learn the secret of worldly dis- 
dain and discover that we are communing with the 
prose poet ; we are roused from the lulling charm 
of fable and delicate imagery by the mordant wit 
of the dramatist; with the smile still on our lips 
we are confronted by a soul in torment. Oscar 
Wilde, The Protean, the weaver of paradoxes — 
himself the great paradox ! Try as we may, shall 
we ever understand him? ''Be warned in time, 
James ; and remain, as I do, incomprehensible. To 
be great is to be misunderstood.'' ^ At all events he 
remains unexplained and unexplainable, nor one, 
whom his most pitiless critics have been able to 
explain away. 

Yet, if we are to approach him, as we must, with 
a small measure of understanding, let us begin where 
he ends in The Truth of Masks : '' Not that I agree 



INTRODUCTION XI 

with everything that I have said in this essay. There 
is much with which I entirely disagree. The essay 
simply represents an artistic standpoint. For in 
art there is no such thing as a universal truth. A 
Truth in art is that whose contradictory is also 
triiey^ Using this dogma as a basis for argument, 
Arthur Symons evolves the theory that Wilde was 
^^ an artist in attitudes."^ ^* And it was precisely in 
his attitudes/' he says, ^' that he was most sincere. 
They represented his intentions ; they stood for the 
better, unrealized part of himself. Thus his atti- 
tude, towards life and towards art, was untouched 
by his conduct.'' There is a kernel of truth in the 
theory so long as emphasis be laid upon this sin- 
cerity ; for with Wilde the attitude was not so much 
a pose assumed as a point of view accidentally en- 
countered. Given the new point of view, with 
the change of perspective, new theories became not 
only admissible, but imperative.^ Nor was incon- 
sistency or insincerity possible to him, whose one 
fixed star was that ** art never expresses anything 
but itself." ^ But not only was he sincere in his at- 
titudes; he was sincere concerning his attitudes. 
'^ What people call insincerity," he says in The 
Critic as Artist^ '^ is simply a method by which we 
can multiply our personalities." Were this exam- 
ple a random citation, it might carry little weight. 



XU INTRODUCTION 

But Wilde proceeds to say in the same essay, " To 
know anything about oneself, one must know all 
about others. There must be no mood with which 
one cannot sympathize, no dead mode of life that 
one cannot make alive. . . . Man is least himself 
when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, 
and he will tell you the truth.'*' '^ This, perhaps, is a 
key to the secret. That he intentionally adopted 
the shell of different personalities, is improbable. 
What seems unquestionable, however, is this as- 
sumption of certain quite distinct roles, which col- 
oured not only his life but his written word. And 
so a trait, unconscious at first, through mere repeti- 
tion became self-conscious — deliberate, it may be — 
thereby substantiating the theory which he pro- 
pounds. This much is certain. When he posed as 
an idealist, he was laughed at for a fool ; when he 
posed as a cynic, he was applauded for a wit. But 
then the public could gain something from the pose 
of 1882, and had nothing to gain from that of 1892. 
'^ All art is quite useless," ^ he says. Was it in 
consolation or self-justification? Again we find 
ourselves involved in a labyrinth of paradox. And 
so, inexplicable he remains. Yet, if a man be intel- 
ligent enough to simulate cleverness, or sufficiently 
gifted to exemplify genius, is he not cleverness 
intensified, may he not be genius magnified? 



INTRODUCTION Xlll 

But this IS by way of digression and bears only 
indirectly on Wilde's literary work. His better 
known essays, which were published in The Nine- 
tee7tth Century and The Fortnightly Review at various 
intervals from 1885 to 1890, and which, after some 
revision, were reissued in a collected form under the 
characteristic title of Intentions , have received 
much of the attention which they deserve. Though 
comparatively unnoticed upon their individual ap- 
pearance, as a collection they not only created a 
sensation, but received some serious consideration 
and appreciation at the hands of the more discrimi- 
nating critics- ^ At present, their great merit is so 
generally accepted that it becomes almost platitu- 
dinous to insist upon the wit that characterizes 
their every phrase. Perhaps it is in these essays 
that we find Wilde in his most brilliant mood. 
Here we are given many of his ideas crystallized in 
the form of epigrams — dogmas so gracefully ex- 
pressed that it seems as if such wealth of fancy 
could conceal no useful thought. Here is Wilde 
more truly Protean than ever. But here also much 
of potential utility has been polished into exqui- 
sitely arrayed abstractions so mellifluous that they 
do not invite serious interpretation. 

But Wilde had another side : one extremely 
practical, in which wit was made secondary to wis- 



XIV INTRODUCTION 

dom, and form to fact; and though this side is 
emphasized more especially in his unpublished 
personal correspondence, evidence of it may be 
detected in his lecture on decorative art, his 
specific criticisms, and in the majority of the letters 
included in the following collection. Furthermore, 
to obtain an insight into the true significance of 
Intentions, it is essential to grasp the theories of 
the young man who lectured on art in 1882; who 
took issue with Whistler in 1885. For the dogmas 
of the New ^Esthetics, set forth in The Decay of 
Lyingy are in a measure visionary and not a little 
destructive, while the earlier doctrines are not only 
constructive, but practical. In the first instance, 
as an iconoclast, he laid bare much of the hypocrisy 
and smug complacency of the ^' literary gentleman '* 
— the quasi-artist, creative and critical; in the 
second, as a teacher, he attempted to indicate certain 
means for improvement and to lead the way to 
truth by the path of his own ideals. 

If we examine the files of Punch of a quarter 
of a century ago, we will find rather illumina- 
ting references to Nincompoopiana.^^ ''Jellaby 
Postlethwaite '' from that time became so prominent 
a personage in the world of cartoons, that in 
the year 1882, which discovers Oscar Wilde, the 
poet, lecturer, and soi-disant ^Esthete approaching 



INTRODUCTION XV 

the port of New York/^ it was difficult to scan any- 
public sheet without finding some allusion to the 
aesthetic movement and its high-priest. In both 
Gilbert's Patience^'^ and Burnand's Colonel^^ he 
was held up to ridicule. Puck^^ led the van in 
this country. Cartoon followed upon cartoon, nor 
were there many reputable newspapers that did not 
engage some jealous scribe to parody the poems 
which he lacked the talent to write or the intelli- 
gence to emulate. ^^ 

It was under these conditions that Wilde deliv- 
ered his lecture on The English Renaissance}^ 
But alas, he committed the unpardonable offence 
of appearing in a pair of breeches which descended 
no further than his knees ! Whereupon, the sig- 
nificance of his remarks was relegated to that level 
by an audience whose understanding could not sur- 
mount eccentricities of dress. His lecture, however 
fine and worthy and beautiful as a literary pro- 
duction, was known thenceforth as Ruskin and 
Water. 

Wilde irritated England; disturbed British sto- 
lidity, conservatism and self-conceit. America he 
amused. American courtesy was too superficial to 
withstand America's sense of humour. The theo- 
ries of a man with knickerbockers and long hair 
were ipso facto untenable. Said The Sun in a gen- 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

erous editorial: ** Why rebuff a visitor simply be- 
cause of the fashion of his clothes? . , . There is 
no law, social or other, that compels a man to dress 
like every other man you meet;" ^"^ and later of his 
lecture in Boston, '' It is not a performance so tri- 
fling as to insult the intelligence of the audience, 
but a carefully prepared essay which proves its 
author to be a man of cultivation, taste, imagina- 
tion, education and refinement/' ^^ But this atti- 
tude was the exception. The lecture remained 
Ruskin and Water y and its author the mountebank. 
So, the American public, which began by ridi- 
culing his appearance, his clothes, and his manner- 
isms, ended by ridiculing his opinions on art. 
They attended his lectures, not to listen, but to 
laugh ; and though, at the time of his discourteous 
reception by the students of Harvard,^^ he com- 
pletely turned the tables on his tormentors and 
earned the respect of his audience, this reaction in his 
favour was of short duration. Once a buffoon, 
always a buffoon. A clown, as every one knows, 
must look to laughter for his highest reward. There 
were dissenting voices; there were broad-minded 
men and women who treated him as a gentleman 
and not as a curiosity. One, indeed, John Paul, 
had the courage to express his opinions in The New- 
York Tribune /^^ to weigh fault against virtue, to 



INTRODUCTION XVU 

weigh carefully and judiciously. He alone seems to 
have appreciated what few people understood ; for 
he saw that Wilde was in reality " suffering poi- 
gnantly " from the attacks of the Press — in fact that 
it was because of these attacks and the attitude of 
the public, that he had, with a certain amount of 
quixotism, exaggerated the cut of his clothes and 
the dogmatism of those ideas which had proven 
ridiculous or offensive to his inartistic and ultra- 
conventional audiences. 

Then came the tour in the West, which, he tells 
us, embraced some fifty or sixty cities. ^^ When he 
returned, it was with a deeper knowledge of the 
needs of this country. And to suggest a remedy 
for those needs, he deHvered his new lecture,^^ more 
simple in form than the first, more practical in its 
application to the requirements of the American 
people. As a plea for the encouragement of the 
handicraftsman ; for the rejection of the hideously 
naturalistic tendency in house-furnishing; for the 
establishment of museums, enriched by the finest 
examples from the finest periods of decorative art ; 
for beautiful surroundings for children, and for 
schools in which these children might develop their 
artistic proclivities under the guidance of artists and 
capable artisans — as a plea for all that is beautiful, 
noble and sane in art, this lecture falls little short 



XVlll INTRODUCTION 

of being a masterpiece. As a plea only, for from 
the standpoint of style — from Oscar Wilde's own 
standpoint — it cannot compare with any one of the 
Intentions, But from the standpoint of rational 
criticism and of actual utility, it surpasses anything 
that he has done. For once, at least, the artist 
created something thoroughly useful, and if, ac- 
cording to his own dictum, '* we can forgive a man 
for making a useful thing as long as he does not 
admire it,'' ^^ perhaps there are many of us who, with 
equal consistency, now admire that useful thing as 
long as we can never forgive the man who made it. 
For at the time that he expressed these theories 
his suggestions, his admonitions and his hopes were 
received with indifference, if not altogether with 
contempt, by both the public and the Press. But 
the Press and the public, it must be admitted, were 
almost synonymous, so much had the former 
moulded the latter to its uses and blunted both its 
perception and sense of justice. To insist that this 
lecture has revolutionized art in America, would be 
ridiculous. To deny that its precepts have been in 
a large measure realized, would be preposterous. 
Perhaps Wilde was no more than one of a number 
of influences at work for the improvement of taste. 
But the fact that public opinion at large was so 
thoroughly antagonistic to his views, remains, in 



INTRODJCTION XIX 

the light of succeeding events, proof positive that 
these views were just, inevitable, and well-timed. 
Whether they originated with him, is a matter of 
small importance. The one im.portant fact is that 
he had the courage to express them. Now that we 
have sufficient culture to accept them — at least in 
principle — we should have the honesty, if not the 
generosity to acknowledge our error, if not our 
debt. 

Wilde has expressed in a dozen ways the doctrine 
that all art should be self-conscious, conventional 
and decorative;^* that to be Art, it must be these 
things; conversely, that the art which is uncon- 
scious, unstudied and merely imitative— that is to 
say, reproductive of objects in Nature — is not Art 
at all, but a hybrid, masquerading in the garments 
of Art. These tenets have now become postulates, 
at least in so far as they concern interior decoration. 
However unwelcome were the strictures he laid on 
the crude taste displayed in the homes of England 
and America, the justice of his criticisms may no 
longer be questioned. He not only objected to the 
" inane worship of Nature** ^^ as exemplified in the 
decorative arts, more notably in tapestry and carpet, 
but explained wherein lay the futility of that wor- 
ship. He both appreciated and taught the niceties 
and limitations of the mural and textile arts, the 



XX INTRODUCTION 

charm of restraint and simplicity, and the restful- 
ness of pattern. ^^ 

As early as 1883, he remarked in an interview ^^ 
with a New York journalist: ''The French art im- 
ported into America is not suited here ; it should 
be costly or it will not be pretty. The Americans 
are going back to the real, simple art that flourished 
in the Colonial days. This is the only genuine 
American art and will be the art of the Republic in 
the future." This was the prediction of no dreamer. 
Would indeed that it might have been more produc- 
tive as a warning ! For there remains to this day a 
majority that should be restrained from innocently 
indulging in the gilt abortions so commonly mis- 
called French furniture. But at that period all 
classes were equally barbarous in their want of 
artistic refinement. In spite of this, at the end of 
the decade a change for the better became so marked 
that Wilde could write, '' Ugliness has had its day. 
Even in the houses of the rich there is taste ;" ^^ and 
again in 1891, '* It would be quite impossible at the 
present moment to furnish a room as rooms were 
furnished a few years ago, without going for every- 
thing to an auction of second-hand furniture from 
some third-rate lodging-house. The things are no 
longer made.'' ^^ 

In many respects, Wilde was in accord with 



INTRODUCTION XXI 

Whistler as regards the conditions of art. He has 
even been accused of borrowing his ideas from 
Whistler. That is absurd. It would be easier, if 
anything, to prove the reverse. In point of time, 
the exposition of Wilde's doctrines takes precedence 
over that of the painter. Said Whistler in Te7i 
O'clock (1885): ''Humanity takes the place of 
Art, and God's creations are excused by their use- 
fulness. Beauty is confounded with virtue, and, 
before a work of Art, it is asked, 'What good shall 
it do ? * " Said Wilde in L Envoi to Rose Leaf and 
Apple Leap^ (1882): "Nor, in its primary aspect 
has a painting, for instance, any more spiritual mes- 
sage or meaning for us than a blue tile from the wall 
of Damascus. ... It is a beautifully-coloured sur- 
face, nothing more, and affects us by no suggestion 
stolen from philosophy, no pathos pilfered from liter- 
ature, no feeling filched from a poet, but by its own 
incommunicable artistic essence.'* 

In this elimination of all intellectual or ethical 
considerations, both Whistler and Wilde were op- 
posed to Ruskin and his school. Accordingly, from 
the subjective point of view their beliefs were iden- 
tical. It was from the objective point of view that 
they differed so materially. Whistler sought to 
isolate Art and the artist.^^ The sacred precinct of 
Beauty and its priest were, in his eyes, beyond the 



Xxil INTRODUCTION 

ken of the vulgar; and beyond their reach should 
both remain. Wilde, on the other hand, deemed it 
praiseworthy and possible to educate the masses to 
an appreciation of the beautiful.^^ This very position 
was maintained and elaborated by Swinburne in his 
spirited reply ^^ to Teji G Clock in 1888. 

Mr. H. W. Singer, in a recent monograph on 
Whistler,^* refers to Wilde's attitude as ''an artificial 
enthusiasm for art,'' which, he goes on to say, ''is 
just as futile as its enforced exercise." Wilde him- 
self would agree with the conclusion, if the premises 
were true. But they are indubitably false. He 
never exercised pressure; he never attempted to 
*Mrive his following to the love of art." So, when 
Mr. Singer adds, " For the conditions to be ab- 
solutely healthy, the people must come of their 
own accord," and says it presumably in confutation 
of the fabricated doctrines of a purely imaginary 
Wilde, he should make it impossible for the latter 
to have written, " The truths of art cannot be taught. 
They are revealed only — revealed to natures which 
have made themselves receptive of all beautiful 
impressions by the study and worship of all beau- 
tiful things. "^^ And when Mr. Singer prefaces his 
argument by stating that " the movement inaugu- 
rated by the latter (Wilde) spent itself in an affected 
style of dress, and of necessity aroused the antip- 



INTRODUCTION XXlll 

athy of every honest man/' he should remember 
that, according to the artist whom he champions, 
ethical problems are irrelevant to art, and that all 
expression of personal feeling merely stultifies the 
man who mistakes such expression for logic. Mr. 
Singer is, unfortunately, a fair example of popular 
ignorance as regards the real theories of Wilde; 
and his logic, typical of the logic applied to what 
little truth is known. But Swinburne established 
Wilde's position, however unconsciously, when he 
wrote, '* Good intentions will not secure good re- 
sults; but neither — strange as it may seem — will 
the absence of good intentions. ''^^ At any rate, 
Wilde refused to be deterred from the hope that 
Beauty would ultimately become ** the national 
inheritance of all."^^ As he put it in 1890, ''The 
Creeds are believed, not because they are rational, 
but because they are repeated.'' ^^ 

But although he hoped for a national, a universal 
acceptance of art, he demanded complete liberty 
for the artist. '' The work of art," he insisted, '' is to 
dominate the spectator; the spectator is not to 
dominate the work of art." ^^ He claimed for liter- 
ature the same license that is granted to the Press. 
He claimed for the stage the same freedom that is 
granted to art, whether verbal, plastic, or pictorial. 
He did not expect exemption from criticism, but he 



XXIV INTRODUCTION 

believed that all criticism should mean something 
more than mere approval or condemnation ; that it 
should reflect the mood and the individuaHty of the 
critic, being an impression made on him and not 
merely an analysis made by him*^ — in short, that 
criticism should be as imaginative and creative as 
the subject-matter it criticizes. 

As in painting, so in literature he opposed the 
authority of convention ; and more especially in 
literature, he resented the restrictions placed upon 
subject-matter by an arbitrary standard of morals, 
and the Puritanism of a Press, which advocated 
these restrictions. Upon this, he dwells at some 
length in ''Dorian Gray*' and its Critics. So, in 
The Censure and *' Salome ^^ he arraigns in a 
masterly manner the inconsistencies by which the 
Anglo-Saxon discriminates between what is fit and 
unfit for stage-production. 

In ** Vera " and the Drama and The Relation of 
the Actor to the Play, he confines himself to an 
exposition of the canons of dramatic art and a 
discussion of the limitations of the actor. And in 
each and every instance, despite an occasional flip- 
pancy of tone, there is always a strong undercurrent 
of common sense, which, coupled with his inexhaus- 
tible wit, does much to atone for his native egotism 
and his imperturbable arrogance. On the other 



INTRODUCTION XXV 

hand, Joaquin Miller, the Good Samaritan; Paris, 
the Abode of Artists; and The Ethics of Joiirnalism 
seem at first glance to consist of very little save this 
arrogance and egotism in their most offensive form. 
This, however, is more apparent than real. On 
each occasion, Wilde had been provoked beyond 
human endurance. In the face of mere personal 
abuse, he had a thousand times remained silent, 
however malicious and unfounded the charges 
made against him. It was only when his reputation 
as an artist was attacked that he accepted a chal- 
lenge. A little knowledge of the situation in 
America in 1882, a reahzation of the injustice of 
the Censure in 1892, and a mere glance at The 
Shamrock of 1894, will extenuate, if not altogether 
justify, the tone which he assumed. 

The last article of this collection. Dramatic 
Critics and ^^ An Ideal Husband,^^ which was not 
the direct product of his pen, may have been 
embelHshed with slight exaggerations by the 
chronicler, Mr. Burgess. Yet it is Wilde — Wilde 
in his most irritating mood. It actually bristles 
with startling imipertinences, the most inconsequen- 
tial dogmas, the most pitiful affectations. As if 
fearful of the future, Wilde seems to be demand- 
ing a final opportunity to exhibit his powers 
of verbal coloratura; an hour in which to vin- 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

dicate his reputation as a juggler of ideas. And 
yet in this, as in almost everything that he wrote or 
did, there is something of the naive child. ** People 
like myself, who have child-like, simple natures,'' 
is his way of putting it, in a letter*^ to Leonard 
Smithers. And Wilde knew. Perhaps, after all, it 
was this child-like attitude which subjected him to 
such universal misunderstanding. Certainly it was 
with the simplicity and impetuosity of a child that 
he first took the world into his confidence. A child 
does not question the interest of the veriest stranger. 
In much the same way, Wilde, delighted with new 
vistas of art, intoxicated by the beauty of the 
thoughts to which they gave occasion, did not hes- 
itate to give these thoughts public expression nor 
to hang upon them all the jewels of his fancy. But 
the world looked upon the offering as an affecta- 
tion, and upon his lack of reserve as an indelicacy, 
as a want of dignity and good breeding. Now, 
this attitude of the world rankled ; for he saw that 
it was unjust, that it was hypocritical. Too late, he 
learned that a man cannot be himself, however 
much he may wish it ; that he may think anything, 
but that he must say or do nothing that is unsanc- 
tioned by usage. Oscar Wilde was a dreamer and 
his dreams called forth laughter. So he cherished 
them in secret, till they lost much of their bloom 



INTRODUCTION XXVll 

and distilled the fatal poison that at last destroyed 
him. And so, he who had been an idealist with a 
loathing for the ugly, sordid things of life, became 
a cynic whose heart still throbbed in echo to all 
that was beautiful and good in the realm of fancy. 
The most pitiful dreamer, the wittiest cynic and 
the most brilliant wit of his century he remains. 
But above all else, he will be known as the artist. 
Max Beerbohm*^ tells us that Pater, in one of his 
few book reviews, remarked that in Wilde's work 
there was always ^* the quality of the good talker.'' 
But he was more, far more than a mere talker. He 
was a verbal colourist, a great decorative artist, 
whose words make as direct an appeal to the eye 
as their sound does to the ear, or their sense to 
the intellect. They are suggestive in themselves. 
They are the very essence of Art. '* If one loves 
Art at all," he says, *^one must love it beyond all 
other things in the world, and against such love, 
the reason, if one listened to it, would cry out. 
There is nothing sane about the worship of beauty. 
It is too splendid to be sane. Those of whose 
lives it forms the dominant note will always seem 
to the world to be pure visionaries.''^^ And with 
Wilde it was Art that formed the dominant note. 
Richard Butler Glaenzer. 

New York, February, 1906. 



It ^vill be a marvellous thing — the true personality of man — when 
we see it. It will grow naturally and simply, flower-like, or as a 
tree grows. It will not be at discord. It will never argue or dis- 
pute. It will not prove things. It will know everything. And 
yet it will not busy itself about knowledge. It will have wisdom. 
Its value will not be measured by material things. It will have 
nothing. And yet it will have everything ; and whatever one takes 
from it, it will still have — so rich will it be. // will not be always 
meddling with others, or asking them to be like itself^ It will love 
thein because they will be different. And yet, while it will not med- 
dle with others, it will help all, as a beautiful thing helps us by 
being what it is. The personality of man will be very wonderful. 
It will be as wonderful as the personality of a child. 

— The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

There are artists of two sorts : the ones present answers ; the 
others ask questions. It is essential to know if one is of the one 
sort or of the other, for he who asks the questions is never the one 
who answers them. There are certain works of art that wait long 
for interpretation for the reason that they answer questions that 
have not yet been asked ; for often the question comes very long 
after the answer. — Translation from ^^The Sayings of Oscar Wilde^ 

Pretextes by Andre Gide. 

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and 
his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part II* 



And even the light of the sun will fade at the last, 

And the leaves will fall, and the birds will hasten away, 
And I will be left in the snow of a flowerless day 
To think of the glories of Spring, and the joys long past. 
— From ^Magdalen Walks. ^ 

Magdalen College^ iS'jS. 

I know that every forest tree 
By labour rises from the root ; 
I know that none shall gather fruit 
By sailing on the barren sea. 

— From * Lotus Leaves J* 

Oxford, i8yi^ 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 



f Art should never try to be popular. The public should try to 

( make themselves artistic. — T/ie Soul of Man Under Socialism, 



The whole history of the decorative arts in Europe is the record of 
the struggle between Orientalism with its frank rejection of imita- 
tion, its love of artistic convention, its dislike to the actual represen- 
tation of any object of Nature, and our own imitative spirit. 
Wherever the former has been paramount, ... we have had 
beautiful and imaginative work in which the visible things of life 
are transmuted into artistic conventions, and the things that Life has 
not, are invented and fashioned for her delight. But wherever we 
have returned to Life and Nature, our work has always become vul- 
gar, common, and uninteresting. ^The Decay of Lying, 



The art that is frankly decorative is the art to live with. It is, 
of all our visible arts, the one art that creates in us both mood and 
temperament. Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with 
definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. 
The harmony that resides in the delicate proportions of lines and 
masses becomes mirrored in the mind. The repetitions of pattern 
give us rest. — The Critic as Artist. Part II, 



All good work aims at a purely artistic effect. But, as in your 
cities, so in your literature, it is an increased sensibility to beauty 
that is lacking. All noble work is not national merely, but universal. 
— Lecture on the English Renaissance, 1882, 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA: 
A LECTURE' 

In my first lecture,^ I gave you something of the 
history of Art in England. I sought to trace the 
influence of the French Revolution upon its devel- 
opment. I said something of the song of Keats 
and the school of the Pre-Raphaelites. But I do 
not want to shelter the movement which I have 
called '' The English Renaissance '' under any pal- 
ladium, however noble, or any name, however re- 
vered. The roots of it have indeed to be sought 
for in things that have long passed away, and not, 
as some suppose, in the fancy of a few young 
men — although I am not altogether sure that there 
is anything much better than the fancy of a few 
young men. 

When I appeared before you on a previous occa- 
sion, I had seen nothing of American art save the 
Doric columns and Corinthian chimney-pots visible 
on your Broadway and Fifth Avenue. Since then 

3 



~1 



4 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

I have been through your country to some fifty or 
sixty cities,^ I think. I find what your people need 
is not so much high imaginative art, but that which 
hallows the vessels of every-day use. I suppose 
that the poet will sing and the artist will paint re- 
gardless whether the world praises or blames. He 
has his own world and is independent of his fellow- 
men. But the handicraftsman is dependent on your 
pleasure and opinion. He needs your encourage- 
ment and he must have beautiful surroundings. 
Your people love art, but do not sufficiently honour 
i the handicraftsmen. Of course, those millionaires 
who can pillage Europe for their pleasure need have 
no care to encourage such ; but I speak for those 
whose desire for beautiful things is larger than their 
means. I find that one great trouble all over is 
that your workmen are not given to noble designs. 
You cannot be indifferent to this, because art is not 
something which you can take or leave. It is a 
necessity of human life. 

And what is the meaning of this beautiful deco- 
ration which we call art? In the first place, it 
means value to the workman, and it means the 
pleasure which he must necessarily take in making 
a beautiful thing. The mark of all good art is not ^ 
that the thing done is done exactly or finely, for 
machinery may do as much, but that it is worked 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 5 

out with the head and the workman's heart. I can- 
not impress the point too frequently that beautiful 
and rational designs are necessary in all work. I 
did not imagine until I went into some of your sim- 
pler cities that there was so much bad work done. 
I found where I went bad wall-papers, horribly de- 
signed, and coloured carpets, and that old offender, 
the horse-hair sofa, whose stolid look of indifference 
is always so depressing. I found meaningless chan- 
deliers and machine-made furniture, generally of 
rosewood, which creaked dismally under the weight 
of the ubiquitous interviewer. I came across the 
small iron stove^ which they always persist in deco- 
rating with machine-made ornaments, and which is 
as great a bore as a wet day or any other particu- 
larly dreadful institution. When unusual extrava- 
gance was indulged in it was garnished with two 
funeral urns. 

It must always be remembered that what is well 
and carefully made by an honest workman after a 
rational design, increases in beauty and value as the 
years go on. The old furniture brought over by 
the Pilgrims tv/o hundred years ago, which I saw 
in New England, is just as good and as beautiful 
to-day as it was when it first came here. Now, 
what you must do is to bring artists and handi- 
craftsmen together. Handicraftsmen cannot live, 



6 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

certainly cannot thrive, without such companion- 
ship. Separate these two, and you rob art of all 
spiritual motive. Having done this, you must place 
your workman in the midst of beautiful surround- 
ings. The artist is not dependent on the visible 
and the tangible. He has his visions and his dreams 
to feed on. But the workman must see lovely 
forms and beautiful forms, as he goes to his work in 
the morning and returns at eventide. And, in con- 
nection with this, I want to assure you that noble 
and beautiful designs are never the result of idle 
fancy or purposeless day-dreaming. They only 
come as the accumulation of habits of long and 
delightful observation. And yet such things may 
not be taught.^ Right ideas concerning them 
can certainly only be obtained by those who have 
been accustomed to rooms that are beautiful and 
colours that are satisfying. 

Perhaps one of the most difficult things for us to 
do is to choose a notable and joyous dress for men. 
There would be more joy in life if we should accus- 
tom ourselves to use all the beautiful colours we 
can in fashioning our own clothes. The dress of 
the future, I think, will use drapery to a great extent 
and will abound with joyous colour. At present 
we have lost all nobility of dress, and in doing so, 
have almost annihilated the modern sculptor. And 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 7 

in looking around at the figures which adorn our 
parks, one could almost wish that we had completely 
killed the noble art. To see the frock coat of the 
drawing-room done in bronze or the double waist- 
coat perpetuated in marble, adds a new horror 
to death. But indeed, in looking through the his- 
tory of costume, seeking an answer to the questions 
we have propounded, there is little that is either 
beautiful or appropriate. One of the earliest forms 
is the Greek drapery, which is so exquisite for 
young girls. And then, I think we may be pardoned 
a Httle enthusiasm over the dress of the time of 
Charles I, so beautiful indeed, that in spite of its 
invention being with the Cavaliers, it was copied 
by the Puritans. And the dress for the children 
at that time must not be passed over. It was a very 
golden age of the little ones. I do not think that 
they have ever looked so lovely as they do in the 
pictures of that time. The dress of the last century 
in England is also peculiarly gracious and graceful. 
There is nothing bizarre or strange about it, but it 
is full of harmony and beauty. In these days, 
when we have suffered so dreadfully from the 
incursions of the modern milliner, we hear ladies 
boast that they do not wear a dress more than 
once.^ In the old days, when the dresses were 
decorated with beautiful designs and worked with 



8 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

exquisite embroidery, ladies rather took a pride in 
bringing out the garment and wearing it many 
times and handing it down to their daughters — a 
process which I think would be quite appreciated 
by modern husbands when called upon to settle 
their wives' bills. 

And how shall men dress? Men say they don't 
particularly care how they dress, and that it is little 
matter. I am bound to reply that I do not believe 
them and do not think that you do. In all my 
journeys through the country, the only well-dressed 
men that I saw — and in saying this I earnestly 
deprecate the polished indignation of your Fifth 
Avenue dandies — were the Western miners. Their 
wide-brimmed hats,"^ which shaded their faces from 
the sun and protected them from the rain, and the 
cloak, which is by far the most beautiful piece of 
drapery ever invented, may well be dwelt on with 
admiration. Their high boots, too, were sensible 
and practical. They wore only what was comfort- 
able and therefore beautiful. As I looked at 
them, I could not help thinking with regret of the 
time when these picturesque miners should have 
made their fortunes and would go East to assume 
again all the abominations of modern fashionable 
attire. Indeed, so concerned was I that I made 
some of them promise that when they again 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 9 

appeared in the more crowded scenes of Eastern 
civilization they would still continue to wear their 
lovely costume. But I don't believe they will.^ 
! Now, what America wants to-day is a school of 
rational design. Bad art is a great deal worse than 
no art at all. You must show your workmen speci- 
mens of good work, so that they may come to know 
what is simple and true and beautiful. To that end 
I would have you have a museum attached to these 
schools — not one of those dreadful modern institu- 
tions where there are a stuffed and very dusty 
giraffe and a case or two of fossils, but a place 
where there are gathered examples of art decoration 
from various periods and countries. Such a place 
is the South Kensington Museum in London, where- 
on we build greater hopes for the future than on 
any other one thing. There I go every Saturday 
night, when the Museum is opened later than usual, 
to see the handicraftsman, the wood- worker, the 
glass-blower and the worker in metals. And it is 
here that the man of refinement and culture comes 
face to face with the workman who ministers to his 
joy. He comes to know more of the nobiHty ofthe 
workman, and the workman, feeling the apprecia- 
tion, comes to know more of the nobility of his 
work. 

You have too many white walls. More colour is 



lO DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

wanted. You should have such men as Whistler 
among you to teach you the beauty and joy 
of colour. Take Mr. Whistler's '^ Symphony in 
White/' ^ which you no doubt have imagined to be 
something quite bizarre. It is nothing of the sort. 
Think of a cool grey sky, flecked here and there 
with white clouds, a grey ocean and three wonder- 
fully beautiful figures robed in white, leaning over 
the water and dropping white flowers from their 
fingers. Here are no extensive intellectual scheme 
to trouble you and no metaphysics, of which we 
have had quite enough in art. But if the simple and 
unaided colour strikes the right keynote, the whole 
conception is made clear. I regard Mr. Whistler's 
famous *' Peacock Room " ^^ as the finest thing in 
colour and art decoration which the world has known 
since Correggio painted that wonderful room in 
Italy where the little children are dancing on the 
walls.-^^ Mr. Whistler finished another room just be- 
fore I came away — a breakfast room in blue and 
yellow. The ceiling was a light blue, the cabinet- 
work and furniture were of a yellow wood, the cur- 
tains at the windows were white and worked in yel- 
low, and when the table was set for breakfast with 
dainty blue china, nothing can be conceived at once 
so simple and so joyous. 

The fault which I have observed in most of your 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA II 

rooms is that there is apparent no definite scheme 
of colour. Everything is not attuned to a keynote 
as it should be. The apartments are crowded with 
pretty things which have no relation to one another. 
Again, your artists must decorate what is more 
simply useful. In your art schools I found no 
attempt to decorate such things as the vessels for 
water. I know of nothing uglier than the ordinary 
jug or pitcher. A museum could be filled with the 
different kinds of water vessels which are used in 
hot countries. Yet we continue to submit to the 
depressing jug with the handle all on one side. I 
do not see the wisdom of decorating dinner-plates 
with sunsets and soup-plates with moonlight scenes, 
I do not think it adds anything to the pleasure of 
the canvas-back duck to take it out of such glories. 
Besides, we do not want a soup-plate whose bottom 
seems to vanish in the distance. One feels neither 
safe nor comfortable under such conditions. In fact, 
I did not find in the art schools of the country that 
the difference was explained between decorative 
and imaginative art. 

The conditions of art should be simple. A great 
deal more depends upon the heart than the head. 
Appreciation of art is not secured by any elaborate 
scheme of learning. Art requires a good healthy 
atmosphere. The motives for art are still around 



12 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

about us as they were around about the ancients. 
And the subjects are also easily found by the 
earnest sculptor and the painter. Nothing is more 
picturesque and graceful than a man at work. The 
artist who goes to the children's playground, watches 
them at their sport, and sees the boy stoop to 
tie his shoe, will find the same themes that en- 
gaged the attention of the ancient Greeks, and 
such observation and the illustrations which follow 
will do much to correct that fooHsh impression that 
mental and physical beauty are always divorced. 

To you more than perhaps to any other country, 
has nature been generous in furnishing material 
for art-workers to work in. You have marble- 
quarries where the stone is more beautiful in colour 
than the Greeks ever had for their beautiful work, 
and yet day after day I am confronted with the 
great building of some stupid man who has used 
the beautiful material as if it were not precious al- 
most beyond speech. Marble should not be used 
save by noble workmen. There is nothing which 
gave me a greater sense of barrenness in travelling 
through the country than the entire absence of 
wood-carving on your houses. Wood-carving is 
the simplest of the decorative arts. In Switzer- 
land the little barefooted boy beautifies the porch 
of his father's house with examples of skill in this 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 1 3 

direction. Why should not American boys do a 
great deal more and better than Swiss boys ? 

There is nothing to my mind more coarse in con- 
ception and more vulgar in execution than modern 
jewelry. This is something that can be easily cor- 
rected. Something better should be made out of 
the beautiful gold which is stored up in your 
mountain hollows and strewn along your river beds. 
When I was at Leadville and reflected that all the 
shining silver I saw coming from the mines would 
be made into ugly dollars, it made me sad. It 
should be made into something more permanent. 
The golden gates at Florence are as beautiful to- 
day as when Michael Angelo saw them. 

We should see more of the workman than we 
do. We should not be content to have the sales- 
man stand between us — the salesman, who knows 
nothing of what he is selling save that he is charg- 
ing a great deal too much for it. And watching 
the workmen, will teach that most important lesson, 
the nobility of all rational workmanship. 

I said in my last lecture that art would create 
a new brotherhood^^ among men by furnishing a 
universal language. I said that under its beneficent 
influences war might pass away. Thinking this, 
what place can I ascribe to art in our education ? 
If children grow up among all fair and lovely things, 



14 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

they will grow to love beauty and detest ugliness 
before they know the reason why. If you go into 
a house where everything is coarse, you find 
things chipped and broken and unsightly. Nobody 
exercises any care. If everything is dainty and 
delicate, gentleness and refinement of manner are 
unconsciously acquired. When I was in San Fran- 
cisco I used to visit the Chinese Quarter frequently. 
There I used to watch a great hulking Chinese 
workman at his task of digging, and used to see 
him every day drink his tea from a little cup as 
deHcate in texture as the petal of a flower, whereas 
in all the grand hotels of the land, where thousands 
of dollars have been lavished on great gilt mirrors 
and gaudy columns, I have been given my coffee 
or my chocolate in cups an inch and a quarter 
thick.^^ I think I have deserved something nicer. 

The art systems of the past have been devised 
by philosophers who looked upon human beings as 
obstructions. They have tried to educate boys' 
minds before they had any. How much better it 
would be in these early years to teach children to 
use their hands in the rational service of mankind ! 
I would have a workshop attached to every school, 
and one hour a day given up to the teaching of 
simple decorative arts. It would be a golden hour 
to the children. And you would soon raise up a 



DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 1 5 

race of handicraftsmen who would transform the 
face of your country. I have seen only one such 
school ^^ in the United States, and this was in Phil- 
adelphia, and was founded by my friend Mr. Le- 
land.^^ I stopped there yesterday and have brought 
some of the work here this afternoon to show you. 
Here ^^ are two discs of beaten brass : the designs 
on them are beautiful, the workmanship is simple 
and the entire result is satisfactory. The work was 
done by a little boy twelve years old. This is a 
wooden bowl, decorated by a little girl of thirteen. 
The design is lovely, and the colouring delicate 
and pretty. Here you see a piece of beautiful wood- 
carving, accomplished by a little boy of nine. In 
such work as this children learn sincerity in art. 
They learn to abhor the liar in art — the man who 
paints wood to look like iron, or iron to look like 
stone. It is a practical school of morals. No better 
way is there to learn to love Nature than to under- 
stand Art. It dignifies every flower of the field. 
And the boy who sees the thing of beauty which a 
bird on the wing becomes when transferred to wood 
or canvas, will probably not throw the customary 
stone. ^'^ What we want is something spiritual added 
to life. Nothing is so ignoble that art cannot sanc- 
tify it. 



JOAQUIN MILLER, 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN 



Satire paid the usual homage which mediocrity yields to genius. 
— Lecture on the English Renaissance, 1882. 

If you survive yellow journalism, you need not be afraid of yellow 
fever. — Lecture on America. Current London Gossip, 

New York Times^ July 2j, i88j. 

There is much to be said in favour of modern journalism. By giv- 
ing us the opinions of the uneducated, it keeps us in touch with the 
ignorance of the community. By invariably discussing the unneces- 
sary, it makes us understand what things are requisite for culture, 
and what are not. — The Critic as Artist, Fart II, 

In America the President reigns for four years, and journalism 
governs for ever and ever. — The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except 
genius. — The Critic as Artist. Parti 

Society often forgives the criminal ; it never forgives the dreamer. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part II. 

The meaning of any beautiful created thing is at least as much in 
the soul of him who looks at it, as it was in his soul who wrought it. 

— The Critic as Artist, Fart I, 



JOAQUIN MILLER, 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN' 



109 West 33rd Street, 
New York, February 9th, 1882. 

My dear Oscar Wilde : — 

I read with shame about the behaviour of those 
ruffians at Rochester at your lecture there.^ When 
I see such things here in the civiHzed portion of my 
country and read the coarse comments of the PhiHs- 
tine Press, I feel like thanking God that my home 
lies three thousand miles further on, and in what is 
called the wilderness. Should you get as far as 
Oregon in your travels, go to my father's. You 
will find rest there and room, as much land as you 
can encompass in a day's ride, and I promise you 
there the respect due a stranger to our shores, to 
your attainments, your industry and your large, 
generous, and tranquil nature. Or should you 

19 



20 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

decide to return here and not bear further abuse, 
come to my house-top and abide with me, where 
you will be welcome and loved as a brother.^ And 
bear this in mind, my dear boy, the more you are 
abused the more welcome you will be. For I 
remember how kind your country* was to me, and 
at your age I had not done one-tenth your work. 
May my right hand fail me when I forget this. 
But don't you lose heart or come to dislike 
America. For whatever is said or done, the real 
heart of this strong young world demands and will 
have fair play for all. This sentiment is deep and 
substantial and will show itself when appealed to. 
So go ahead, my brave youth, and say your say if 
you choose. My heart is with you and so are the 
hearts of the best of America's millions. Thine for 
the Beautiful and True, 

Joaquin Miller. 



II 



St. Louis,^ February 28th, 1882. 
My dear Joaquin Miller : — 

I thank you for your chivalrous and courteous 
letter. BeHeve me, I would as lief judge of the 
strength and splendour of sun and sea by the dust 
that dances in the beam and the bubble that breaks 



JOAQUIN MILLER, THE GOOD SAMARITAN 21 

on the wave/ as take the petty and profitless 
vulgarity of one or two insignificant towns'' as any 
test or standard of the real spirit of a sane, strong, 
and simple people, or allow it to aflfect my respect 
for the many noble men or women^ whom it has 
been my privilege in this great country to know. 

For myself and the cause which I represent, I have 
no fears as regards the future. Slander and folly 
have their way for a season, but for a season only, 
while, as touching either the few provincial news- 
papers which have so vainly assailed me, or that igno- 
rant and itinerant libeller of New England who goes 
lecturing from village to village in such open and 
ostentatious isolation, be sure I have no time to 
waste on them ! Youth being so glorious, art so god- 
like, and the very world about us so full of beauti- 
ful things, and things worthy of reverence, and 
things honourable, how should one stop to listen to 
the lucubrations of a literary gamin^ to the brawling 
and mouthing of a man whose praise would be as 
insolent as his slander is impotent, or to the 
irresponsible and irrepressible chatter of the profes- 
sionally unproductive? 

'Tis a great advantage, I admit, to have done 
nothing, but one must not abuse even that advan- 
tage ! 

Who after all, that I should write of him, 
is this scribbling anonymuncule in grand old 



22 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Massachusetts, who scrawls and screams so glibly 
about what he cannot understand? This apostle 
of inhospitality,^ who delights to defile, to dese- 
crate and to defame the gracious courtesies he is 
unworthy to enjoy? Who are these scribes,^^ who, 
passing with purposeless alacrity from the police 
news to the Parthenon, and from crime to criticism, 
sway with such serene incapacity the office which 
they so lately swept? '' Narcissuses of imbecil- 
ity,'*^^ what should they see in the clear waters of 
Beauty and in the well undefiled of Truth but the 
shifting and shadowy image of their own substantial 
stupidity? Secure of that oblivion for which they 
toil so laboriously, and, I must acknowledge, with 
such success, let them peer at us through their tele- 
scopes and report what they like of us. But, my 
dear Joaquin, should we put them under the micro- 
scope there would be really nothing to be seen. 

I look forward to passing another delightful 
evening with you on my return to New York, and 
I need not tell you that whenever you visit England 
you will be received with that courtesy with which 
it is our pleasure always to welcome all Americans, 
and that honour with which it is our privilege to 
greet all poets. 

Most sincerely and affectionately yours, 

Oscar Wilde. 



I 



MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER 
GRAZEBROOK 



Elle est comme une colombe qui s'est ^gar^e . . . Elle estcomme 
un narcisse agit^ du vent . . . Elle ressemble k une fleur d'argent. 

— Salome. 

In the case of a very fascinating woman, sex is a challenge, not a 
defense. — An Ideal Husband; 

2X^0, Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young. 

Beauty is a form of genius— is higher indeed, as it needs no ex- 
planation. — The Picture of Dorian Gray, 

The critic reproduces the work that he criticizes in a mode that is 
never imitative, and part of whose charm may really consist in the 
rejection of resemblance, and shows us in this way not merely the 
meaning but also the mystery of Beauty, an-d, by transforming 
each art into literature, solves once for all the problem of Art's 
unity. —The Critic as Artist. Parti. 

No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he 
would cease to be an artist. — The Decay of Lying. 

A great work of dramatic art should ... be presented to us in 
the form most suitable to the modern spirit . . . Perfect accuracy 
of detail, for the sake of perfect illusion, is necessary for us. 
What we have to see is that the details are not allowed to usurp the 
principal place. They must be subordinate always to the general 
motive of the play. But subordination in art does not mean dis- 
regard of truth ; it means conversion of fact into effect, and the 
assigning to each detail its proper relative value. 

— The Truth of Masks. 



MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER 
GRAZEBROOK' 

It is only in the best Greek gems, on the silver 
coins of Syracuse, or among the marble figures of 
the Parthenon frieze, that one can find the ideal rep- 
resentation of the marvellous beauty of that face 
which laughed through the leaves last night^ as 
Hester Grazebrook. 

Pure Greek it is, with the grave low forehead, 
the exquisitely arched brow; the noble chiselling 
of the mouth, shaped as if it were the mouthpiece 
of an instrument of music ; the supreme and splen- 
did curve of the cheek ; the augustly pillared throat 
which bears it all : it is Greek because the lines 
which compose it are so definite and so strong, 
and yet so exquisitely harmonized that the effect 
is one of simple loveliness purely : Greek, because 
its essence and its quality, as is the quality of music 
and of architecture, is that of beauty based on ab- 
solutely mathematical laws.^ 

25 



26 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

But while art remains dumb and immobile in Its 
passionless serenity, with the beauty of this face 
it is different: the grey eyes lighten into blue or 
deepen into violet as fancy succeeds fancy; the 
lips become flower-like in laughter or, tremulous 
as a bird's wing, mould themselves at last into the 
strong and bitter moulds of pain or scorn. And 
then motion comes, and the statue wakes into life. 
But the life is not the ordinary life of common 
days ; it is life with a new value given to it, the 
value of art: and the charm to me of Hester 
Grazebrook's acting in the first scene of the play 
to-night was that mingling of classic grace with 
absolute reality which is the secret of all beautiful 
art, of the plastic work of the Greeks and of the 
pictures of Jean Frangois Millet equally. 

I do not think that the sovereignty and empire 
of women's beauty has at all passed away, though 
we may no longer go to war for them as the Greeks 
did for the daughter of Leda.* The greatest empire 
still remains for them — the empire of art. And 
indeed this wonderful face, seen to-night for the 
first time in America, has filled and permeated with 
the pervading image of its type the whole of our 
r modern art in England. Last century it was the 
romantic type which dominated in art, the type 
loved by Reynolds and Gainsborough, of wonder- 



MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER GRAZEBROOK 2^ 

ful contrasts of colour, of exquisite and varying 
charm of expression, but without that definite 
plastic feehng which divides classic from romantic 
work. This type degenerated into mere facile 
prettiness in the hands of lesser masters, and in pro- 
test against it, was created by the hands of the Pre- 
Raphaelites a new type, with its rare combination 
of Greek form with Florentine mysticism. But 
this mysticism becomes overstrained and a burden, 
rather than an aid to expression, and a desire for 
the pure Hellenic Joy and serenity came in its 
place ; and in all our modern work, in the paintings 
of such men as Albert Moore ^ and Leighton ^ and 
Whistler, we can trace the influence of this single 
face giving fresh life and inspiration in the form of 
a new artistic ideal. \ 

As regards Hester Grazebrook's dresses, the first 
was a dress whose grace depended entirely on the 
grace of the person who wore it. It was merely 
the simple dress of a village girl in England. The 
second was a lovely combination of blue and creamy 
lace. But the masterpiece was undoubtedly the 
last, a symphony in silver-grey and pink, a pure 
melody of colour which I feel sure Whistler would 
have called a Scherzo, and take as its visible motive 
the moonlight wandering in silver mist through a rose 
garden, unless indeed he saw this dress, in which 



r 



28 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

case he would paint it and nothing else, for it is 
a dress such as Velasquez only could paint and 
Whistler very wisely always paints those things 
which are only within reach of Velasquez. 

The scenery was, of course, prepared in a hurry.''^ 
Still much of it was very good indeed: the first 
scene especially, with its graceful trees and open 
forge and cottage porch, though the roses were 
dreadfully out of tone, and besides their crudity of 
colour, were curiously — badly grouped. The last 
scene was exceedingly clever and true to nature as 
well, being that combination of lovely scenery and 
execrable architecture which is so specially charac- 
teristic of a German spa. As for the drawing-room 
scene, I cannot regard it as in any way a success. 
The heavy ebony doors are entirely out of keeping 
with the satin panels; the silk hangings and 
festoons of black and yellow are quite meaningless 
in their position and consequently quite ugly ; the 
carpet is out of all colour-relation with the rest of 
the room, and the table-cover is mauve. Still, to 
have decorated ever so bad a room in six days must, 
I suppose, be a subject of respectful wonder, though 
I should have fancied that Mr. Wallack had m.any 
very much better sets in his own stock. 

But I am beginning to quarrel generally with 
most modern scene-painting. A scene is primarily 



MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER GRAZEBROOK 29 

a decorative background for the actors, and should 
be kept always subordinate;^ first, to the players, 
their dress, gesture, and action ; and, secondly, to 
the fundamental principle of decorative art, which 
is not to imitate but to suggest nature. If the 
landscape is given its full reaHstic value, the value 
of the figures to which it serves as a background is 
impaired and often lost, and so the painted hang- 
ings of the Elizabethan age were a far more artistic, 
and so a far more rational form of scenery than most 
modern scene-painting is. From the same master- 
hand which designed the curtain at the Madison 
Square Theatre,^ I would Hke very much to see a 
good decorative landscape in scene-painting ; for I 
have seen no open-air scene in any theatre which 
did not really mar the value of the actors. One 
must either, like Titian, make the landscape subor- 
dinate to the figures, or like Claude, the figures sub- 
ordinate to the landscape ;^^ for if we desire realistic 
acting we cannot have realistic scene-painting. J 

I need not describe, however, how the beauty of 
Hester Grazebrook survived the crude roses and the 
mauve table-cloth triumphantly. That it is a beauty 
that will be appreciated to the full in America, I 
do not doubt for a moment, for it is only countries 
which possess great beauty that can appreciate 
beauty at all. It may also influence the art of 



30 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

America as it has influenced the art of England, 
for of the rare Greek type it is the most absolutely- 
perfect example. 

The Philistine may, of course, object that to be 
absolutely perfect is impossible. Well, that is so : 
but then it is only the impossible things that are 
worth doing nowadays! 



"VERA" AND THE DRAMA 






The drama is the meeting place of art and life ; it deals, as Maz- 
zini said, not merely with man, but with social man, with man in 
relation to God and to humanity. 

— Lecture on the English Renaissance, 1882, 

A good play is hardly ever finished. It must be fitted to the 
stage. It is not enough to make music ; one must make music that 
the instruments can play. — Interview with Oscar Wilde. 

New York World, A tigust 12, i88j. 

The actor is a critic of the drama. He shows the poet's work 
under new conditions and by a message special to himself. He 
takes the written word, and action, gesture, and voice become the 
media of revelation. — The Critic as Artist. Part II. 

The play [ Vera"] is meant not to be read but to be acted, and the 
actor has always a right to object and to suggest. 

--Letter to Mr. R. D'Oyly Carte. 1882. 



^^VERA" AND THE DRAMA 



Charles Street, Grosvenor Square, July, 1883. 
My dear Miss Prescott: — 

It is with great pride and pleasure that I look 
forward to seeing you in the character of the her- 
oine of my play^ — a character which I entrust to 
you with the most absolute confidence,^ for the first 
night I saw you act I recognized in you a great 
artist. 

I do not only mean that there was strength and 
splendour in your acting, music and melody in your 
voice, and in every pose and gesture, as you walked 
the stage, the infinite grace of perfect expressive- 
ness, but that behind all these things, which are 
merely the technique of acting, there lay the true 
artistic nature which alone can conceive a part, and 
the true artistic power which alone can create one. 

As regards the play itself, I have tried in it to 



34 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

express within the limits of art that Titan cry of the 
peoples for liberty, which in the Europe of our day, is 
threatening thrones and making governments un- 
stable from Spain to Russia, and from north to 
southern seas. But it is a play not of politics but 
of passion. It deals with no theories of govern- 
ment, but with men and women simply ; and mod- 
ern NihiHstic Russia, with all the terror of its tyr- 
anny and the marvel of its martyrdoms, is merely 
the fiery and fervent background in front of which 
the persons of my dream live and love. With this 
feeling was the play written, and with this aim 
should the play be acted. 

I have to thank you for the list of your company 
which you have sent me ; and congratulate you, as 
well as myself, on the names of the many well- 
known and tried actors which I see it includes. 

I am very much pleased to know that my di- 
rections as regards scenery and costume have been 
carried out. The yellow satin council-chamber is 
sure to be a most artistic scene, and as you have 
been unable to match in New York the vermilion 
silk of which I sent you a pattern, I hope you will 
allow me to bring you over a piece large enough 
for your dress in the last act. 

I look forward with much interest to a second 
visit to America, and to having the privilege of pre- 



'"vera" and the drama 35 

senting to the American people my first drama. 
There is, I think, no country in the world where 
there are such appreciative theatrical audiences as 
I saw in the United States. 

I hope that by the time I arrive, the play will 
be in good rehearsing order, and I remain, dear 
Miss Prescott, your sincere friend and admirer, 

Oscar Wilde. 



II 

July, 1883. 
My dear Miss Prescott: — 

I have received the American papers and thank 
you for sending them. I think we must remember 
that no amount of advertising will make a bad 
play succeed, if it is not a good play well acted. I 
mean that one might patrol the streets of New 
York with a procession of vermilion caravans twice 
a day for six months to announce that Vera 
was a great play, but if on the first night of its 
production, the play was not a strong play, well 
acted, well mounted, all the advertisements in the 
world would avail nothing. My name signed to a 
play will excite some interest in London and Amer- 



36 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

ica. Your name as the heroine carries great weight 
with it. What we want to do is to have all the 
real conditions of success in our hands. Success is 
a science ; if you have the conditions, you get the 
result. Art is the mathematical result of the emo- 
tional desire for beauty. If it is not thought out, it 
is nothing. 

As regards dialogue, you can produce tragic ef- 
fects by introducing comedy. A laugh in the audi- 
ence does not destroy terror, but, by relieving terror, 
aids it. Never be afraid that by raising a laugh you 
destroy tragedy. On the contrary, you intensify it. 
The canons of each art depend on what they appeal 
to. Painting appeals to the eye and is founded on 
the science of optics. Music appeals to the ear and 
is founded on the science of acoustics. The drama 
appeals to human nature, and must have as its ulti- 
mate basis the science of psychology and physiology. 
Now, one of the facts of physiology is the desire 
of any intensified emotion to be relieved by some 
emotion that is its opposite. Nature's example of 
the dramatic effect is the laughter of hysteria or 
the tears of joy. So, I cannot cut out my comedy 
lines. Besides, the essence of good dialogue is in- 
terruption. All good dialogue should give the 
effect of its being made by the reaction of the per- 
sonages on one another. It should never seem to 



''VERA ' AND THE DRAMA 37 

be ready-made by the author, and interruptions 
have not only their artistic effect but their physical 
value. They give the actors time to breathe and 
get new breath power. 

I remain, dear Miss Prescott, your sincere friend, 

Oscar Wilde. 



MR. WHISTLER'S " TEN O'CLOCK" 



He who seems to stand most remote from his age is he who mir- 
rors it best, because he has stripped life of that mist of familiarity 
which, as Shelley used to say, makes life obscure to us. 

— Lecture on the English Renaissance, 188^0 

A truly great artist cannot conceive of life being shown, or beauty 
fashioned, under any conditions other than those that he has selected. 
Creation employs all its critical faculty within its own sphere. 

— The Critic as Artist. Part II, 

All fine imaginative work is self-conscious and deliberate. 

— The Critic as Artist. Part /. 

In its primary aspect, a painting has no more spiritual message or 
meaning for us than a blue tile from the wall of Damascus, or a 
Hitzen vase. It is a beautifully-coloured surface, nothing more, 
and affects us by no suggestion stolen from philosophy, no pathos 
pilfered from literature, no feeling filched from a poet, but by its 
own incommunicable artistic essence. 

— Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf : L^ Envoi. 1882. 

To the great painter there is only one manner of painting — that 
which he himself employs. The aesthetic critic, and the aesthetic 
critic alone, can appreciate all forms and modes. It is to him that 
Art makes her appeal, — The Critic as Artist. Part II. 



MR. WHISTLER'S ^^TEN O^CLOCK''^ 

At Princes' Hall Mr. Whistler made his first pub- 
lic appearance last Friday^ as a lecturer on art, and 
spoke for more than an hour with really marvellous 
eloquence on the absolute uselessness of all lectures 
of the kind. He began with a very pretty aria on 
prehistoric history, describing how in early times 
hunter and warrior would go forth to chase and 
foray, while the artist sat at home making cup and 
bowl for their service. Rude imitations of nature 
they were first, like the gourd-bottle, till the sense 
of beauty and form developed, and, in all its ex- 
quisite proportions, the first vase was fashioned. 
Then came the higher civilization of architecture 
and arm-chairs, and with exquisite design, and 
dainty diaper, the useful things of life were made 
lovely ; and the hunter and the warrior lay on the 
couch when they were tired, and, when they were 
thirsty, drank from the bowl, and never cared to 
love the exquisite proportions of the one, or the 

41 



42 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

delightful ornament of the other ; and this attitude 
of the primitive anthropophagous Philistine formed 
the text of the lecture, and was the attitude which 
Mr. Whistler entreated his audience to adopt towards 
art. Remembering, no doubt, many charming invi- 
tations to wonderful private views, this fashionable 
assemblage seemed somewhat aghast, and not a 
little amused, at being told that the sHghtest appear^ 
ance among a civilized people of any joy in beau- 
tiful things is a grave impertinence to all painters ; 
but Mr. Whistler was relentless, and with charming 
ease, and much grace of manner, explained to the 
public that the only thing they should cultivate was 
ugliness, and that on their permanent stupidity 
rested all the hopes of art in the future. 

The scene was in every way delightful ; he stood 
there, a miniature Mephistopheles mocking the 
majority! He was like a brilliant surgeon ^ lecturing 
to a class composed of subjects destined ultimately 
for dissection, and solemnly assuring them how 
valuable to science their maladies were, and how 
absolutely uninteresting the slightest symptoms of 
health on their part should be. In fairness to the 
audience, however, I must say they seemed ex- 
tremely gratified at being rid of the dreadful respon- 
sibiHty of admiring anything, and nothing could 
have exceeded their enthusiasm when they were 



MR. whistler's ''ten O'CLOCK" 43 

told by Mr. Whistler that no matter how vulgar 
their dresses were, or how hideous their sur- 
roundings at home, still it was possible that a great 
painter, if there was such a thing, could, by con- 
templating them in the twilight, and half closing 
his eyes, see them under really picturesque condi- 
tions, and produce a picture which they were not 
to attempt to understand, much less dare to enjoy. 
Then there were some arrows, barbed and brilliant, 
shot off, with all the speed and splendour of fire- 
works, at the archaeologists, who spend their lives 
in verifying the birthplaces of nobodies, and estimate 
the value of a work of art by its date, or its decay; 
at the art critics who always treat a picture as if it 
were a novel, and try and find out the plot ; at the 
dilettanti in general, and amateurs in particular, 
and {O mea culpa!) at dress reformers^ most of all. 
*' Did not Velasquez paint crinolines ? What more 
do you want ? " ^ 

Having thus made a holocaust of humanity, Mr. 
Whistler turned to Nature, and in a few moments 
convicted her of the Crystal Palace, Bank holidays, 
and a general overcrowding of detail, both in 
omnibuses and in landscapes ; and then, in a passage 
of singular beauty, spoke of the artistic value of dim 
dawns and dusks, when the mean facts of life are lost 
in exquisite and evanescent effects ; when common 



44 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

things are touched with mystery, and transfigured 
with magic; when the warehouses become as 
palaces, and the tall chimneys of the factory seem 
like campaniles in the opal air — a passage of per- 
fect prose, well worthy of him to whom alone 
among painters, has the moon revealed her silver 
secrets, and the rose of morning opened its petals 
of gold. 

Finally, after making a strong protest against 
anybody but a painter judging of painting, and a 
pathetic appeal to the audience not to be lured by 
the aesthetic movement into having beautiful things 
about them,^ Mr. Whistler concluded his lecture 
with a pretty passage about Fusiyama on a fan,'^ and 
made his bow to an audience which he had suc- 
ceeded in completely fascinating by his wit, his 
brilliant paradoxes, and, at times, his real eloquence. 
Of course, with regard to the value of beautiful 
surroundings I differ entirely from Mr. Whistler. 
An artist is not an isolated eccentricity.^ He is the 
resultant of a certain milieu and a certain entourage, 
and can no more be born of a nation that is devoid 
of any sense of beauty, than a fig can grow from a 
thorn, or a rose blossom from a thistle. That an 
artist will find beauty in ugliness, le beau dans 
r horrible, is now a commonplace of the schools, the 
argot of the atelier, but I strongly deny that charm- 



MR. WHISTLER'S ''TEN O'CLOCK" 45 

ing people should be condemned to live with magenta 
ottomans, and Albert blue curtains, in their rooms, 
in order that some painter may observe the side- 
lights on the one and the values of the other. Nor 
do I accept the dictum that only a painter is a judge 
of painting.^ I say that only an artist is a judge of 
art ; there is a v/ide difference. As long as a painter 
is a painter merely, he should not be allowed to talk 
of anything but mediums and megilp, and on those 
subjects should be compelled to hold his tongue; 
it is only when he becomes an artist that the secret 
laws of artistic creation are revealed to him. For 
there are not many arts, but one art merely : poem, 
picture, and Parthenon, sonnet and statue — all are 
in their essence the same, and he who knows one, 
knows all}^ But the poet is the supreme artist, for 
he is the master of colour and of form, and the real 
musician besides, and is lord over all life and all 
arts; and so to the poet beyond others are these 
mysteries known; to Edgar Allan Poe, and to 
Baudelaire,^^ not to Benjamin West and Paul Dela- 
roche.^^ However, I could not enjoy anybody else's 
lectures unless I entirely disagreed with them, and 
so I have no hesitation in describing Mr. Whistler's 
effort of Friday night as a masterpiece. Not merely 
for its clever satire and amusing jests will it be 
remembered, but for the pure and perfect beauty 



46 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

of many of its passages — passages delivered with an 
earnestness which seemed to amaze those who had 
looked on Mr. Whistler as a master of persiflage 
merely, and had not known him, as we do, as a 
master of painting also. For that he is indeed one 
of the very greatest masters of painting, is my 
opinion. And I may add that in this opinion Mr. 
Whistler himself entirely concurs. 



THE RELATION OF DRESS 
TO ART 



From a combination of the Greek principles of beauty with the 
German principles of health will come, I feel certain, the costume 
of the future. — Letter on Woman's Dress, 1884. 

The costume of the future in England, if it is founded on the 
true laws of freedom, comfort, and adaptability to circumstances, 
cannot fail to be most beautiful also, because beauty is the sign 
always of the rightness of principles, the mystical seal set upon what 
is perfect, and upon what is perfect only. 

— More Radical Ideas Upon Dress Reforvu 1884, 

Every single work of art is the fulfilment of a prophecy : for every 
work of art is the conversion of an idea into an image. 

-De Profundis, 

A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its 
beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has 
nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want. 
— The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

The meaning of joy in art— that incommunicable element of ar- 
tistic delight ... in painting is to be sought for, from the subject 
never, but from the pictorial charm only — the scheme and sym- 
phony of the colour, the satisfying beauty of the design : so that the 
ultimate expression of our artistic movement in painting has been, 
not in the spiritual visions of the Pre-Raphaelites for all their mar- 
vel of Greek legend and their mystery of Italian song, but in the 
work of such men as Whistler and Albert Moore, who have raised 
design and colour to the ideal level of poetry and music. 

— Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf : V Envoi. 1882, 



THE RELATION OF DRESS 
TO ART' 

A NOTE IN BLACK AND WHITE 
ON MR. whistler's LECTURE 

*' How can you possibly paint these ugly three- 
cornered hats?*' asked a reckless art critic once of 
Sir Joshua Reynolds. " I see light and shade in 
them/' answered the artist. ^^ Les grands coloristes/^ 
says Baudelaire, in a charming article on the ar- 
tistic value of frock coats, '^ les grands coloristei 
savent faire de la conleur avec un habit noir, une 
cravate blanche y et un fond grisJ' 

*^ Art seeks and finds the beautiful in all times, 
as did her high priest Rembrandt, when he saw the 
picturesque grandeur of the Jews' quarter of Am- 
sterdam and lamented not that its inhabitants were 
not Greeks,'' were the fine and simple words used 
by Mr. Whistler in one of the most valuable pas- 
sages of his lecture. The most valuable, that is, 

49 



50 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

to the painter; for there is nothing of which the 
ordinary English painter more needs to be reminded, 
than that the true artist does not wait for hfe to be 
made picturesque for him, but sees life under pictur- 
esque conditions always — under conditions, that is to 
say, which are at once new and delightful. But be- 
tween the attitude of a painter towards the public, and 
the attitude of a people towards art, there is a wide 
difference. That, under certain conditions of light 
and shade, what is ugly in fact may, in its effect,^ 
become beautiful, is true: and this, indeed, is the 
real modernite of art : but these conditions are ex- 
actly what we cannot be always sure of, as we stroll 
down Piccadilly in the glaring vulgarity of the noon- 
day, or lounge in the park with a foolish sunset^ 
as a background. Were we able to carry our chiar^ 
oscuro about with us, as we do our umbrellas, all 
would be well ; but, this being impossible, I hardly 
think that pretty and delightful people will continue 
to wear a style of dress, as ugly as it is useless, on 
the chance of Mr. Whistler spiritualizing them into 
a symphony, or refining them into a mist. To be 
etched is not the end of existence. The arts are 
made for life, and not life for the arts. 

Nor do I feel quite sure that Mr. Whistler has 
been himself always true to the dogma he seems 
to lay down, that a painter should only paint the 



THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART 5 I 

dress of his age, and of his actual surroundings. 
Far be it from me to burden a butterfly with the 
heavy responsibility of its past! I have always 
been of opinion that consistency is the last refuge 
of the unimaginative. But have we not all seen, 
and most of us admired, a picture from his hand of 
exquisite English girls strolling by an opal sea in 
the fantastic dresses of Japan ?^ Has not Tite 
Street been thrilled with the tidings that the models 
of Chelsea were posing to the master, in peplums, 
for pastels?^ 

Whatever comes from Mr. Whistler's brush is far 
too perfect in its loveliness, to stand, or fall, by any 
intellectual dogmas on art, even by his own. For 
Beauty is justified of all her children, and cares 
nothing for explanations. But it is impossible to 
look through any collection of modern pictures in 
London, from Burlington House to the Grosvenor 
Gallery, without feeling that the professional model 
is ruining painting, and reducing it to a condi- 
tion of mere pose and pastiche,^ 

Are we not all weary of him, that venerable im- 
poster, fresh from the steps of the Piazza di Spagna, 
who, in the leisure moments that he can spare from 
his customary organ, makes the round of the studios, 
and is waited for in Holland Park ? Do we not all 
recognize him, when, with the gay insouciance of his 



52 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

nation, he reappears on the walls of our summer 
exhibitions, as everything that he is not, and as 
nothing that he is, glaring at us here as a patriarch 
of Canaan, here beaming as a brigand from the 
Abruzzi ? Popular is he, this poor peripatetic pro- 
fessor of posing/ with those whose joy it is to paint 
the posthumous portrait of the last philanthropist, 
who, in his lifetime, had neglected to be photo- 
graphed. Yet, he is the sign of the decadence, 
the symbol of decay. 

For all costumes are caricatures. The basis of 
Art is not the Fancy Ball.^ Where there is loveli- 
ness of dress, there is no dressing up. And so, were 
our national attire delightful in colour, and in con- 
struction simple and sincere ; were dress the expres- 
sion of the lovehness that it shields, and of the 
swiftness and motion that it does not impede ; did 
its lines break from the shoulder,^ instead of bulging 
from the waist; did the inverted wineglass cease to 
be the ideal of form^^ — were these things brought 
about, as brought about they will be, then would 
painting be no longer an artificial reaction against 
the ugliness of life, but become, as it should be, the 
natural expression of life's beauty. Nor would 
painting merely, but all the arts also, be the 
gainers by a change such as that which I propose ; 
the gainers, I mean, through the increased atmos- 



THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART $3 

phere of Beauty by which the artists would be 
surrounded, and in which they would grow up. 
For Art is not to be taught in Academies. It is 
what one locks at, not what one listens to, that 
makes the artist. The real schools are the streets. 
There is not, for instance, a single delicate line, or 
delightful proportion, in the dress of the Greeks, 
which is not echoed exquisitely in their architec- 
ture.^^ A nation arrayed in stove-pipe hats, and 
dress-improvers, might have built the Pantechni- 
con, possibly, but the Parthenon, never. And, 
finally, there is this to be said : Art, it is true, can 
never have any other aim but her own perfection, 
and it may be that the artist, desiring merely to 
contemplate and to create, is wise in not busying 
himself about change in others : yet wisdom is not 
always the best ; there are times when she sinks to 
the level of common sense ; and from the passionate 
folly of those, and there are many, who desire that 
Beauty shall be confined no longer to the bric-a-brac 
of the collector, and the dust of the museum, but 
shall be, as it should be, the natural and national 
inheritance of alP^ — from this noble unwisdom, I 
say, who knows what new loveliness shall be given to 
life, and, under these more exquisite conditions, what 
perfect artist born ? Le milieu se renouvelant^ Vart 
se renouvelle. 



54 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Speaking, however, from his own passionless 
pedestal, Mr. Whistler in pointing out that the 
power of the painter is to be found in his power of 
vision, not in his cleverness of hand, has expressed 
a truth which needed expression, and which, coming 
from the lord of form and colour, cannot fail to 
have its influence. His lecture, the Apocrypha 
though it be for the people, yet remains from this 
time as the Bible for the painter, the masterpiece of 
masterpieces, the song of songs. It is true he has 
pronounced the panegyric of the Philistine, but I 
can fancy Ariel praising Caliban^^ for a jest: and, 
in that he has read the Commination Service over 
the critics, let all men thank him, the critics them- 
selves indeed most of all, for he has now relieved 
them from the necessity of a tedious existence. 
Considered again, merely as a litterateur^ Mr. 
Whistler seems to me to stand almost alone. 
Indeed, I know but few who can combine, so feHci- 
tously as he does, the mirth and malice of Puck with 
the style of the minor prophets. 



THE TOMB OF KEATS 



Spirit of Beauty! •••• 

Yet tarry ! for the boy who loved thee best, 

Whose very name should be a memory 

To make thee linger, sleeps in silent rest 

Beneath the Roman walls 

— The Garden of Eros, 

ON THE RECENT SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE 
LETTERS 1 

These are the letters which Endymion wrote 2 
To one he loved in secret and apart, 
And now the brawlers of the auction-mart ^ 
Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, 
Aye! for each separate pulse of passion quote 
The merchant's price! I think they love not art 
Who break the crystal of a poet's heart 
That small and sickly eyes may glare or gloat. 

Is it not said, that many years ago, 
In a far Eastern town some soldiers ran 
With torches through the midnight, and began 
To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw * 
Dice for the garments of a wretched man, 
Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe? 

And out of the bronze of the image of the sorrow that 
ENDURETH FOREVER he fashioned an image of the pleasure 
that abideth for a moment. --The Artist, 



THE TOMB OF KEATS' 

As one enters Rome from the Via Ostiensis^ by 
the Porta San Paolo, the first object that meets the 
eye is a marble pyramid"^ which stands close at hand 
on the left. 

There are many Egyptian obelisks^ in Rome, tall 
snake-like spires of red sandstone, mottled with 
strange writings, which remind us of the pillars of 
flame^ which led the Children of Israel through the 
desert away from the land of the Pharaohs; but 
more wonderful than these to look upon is this 
gaunt, wedge-shaped pyramid standing here in this 
Italian city, unshattered amid the ruins and wrecks 
of time, looking older than the Eternal City itself, 
like terrible impassiveness turned to stone. And 
so in the middle ages men supposed this to be the 
sepulchre of Remus, who was slain by his own 
brother at the founding of the city, so ancient and 
mysterious it appears ; but we have now, perhaps 

57 



58 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

unfortunately, more accurate information about it, 
and know that it is the tomb of Caius Cestius, a 
Roman gentleman of small note, who died about 30 
B.C. 

Yet though we cannot care much for the dead 
man who lies in lonely state beneath it, and who is 
only known to the world through his sepulchre, 
still this pyramid will be ever dear to the eyes of all 
English-speaking people, because at evening its 
shadow falls on the tomb of one who walks with 
Spenser and Shakespeare and Byron and Shelley 
and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in the great pro- 
cession of the sweet singers of England. 

For at its foot there is a green sunny slope, 
known as the Old Protestant cemetery,^^ and on this 
a common looking grave, which bears the following 
inscription : 

" This grave contains all that was mortal of a young 
English poet, who, on his death-bed, in the bitterness of his 
heart, desired ^^ these words to be engraved on his tomb-stone: 
^ Here lies one whose name was writ in water.' 12 February 24, 
1821.'* 

And the name of the young English poet is John 
Keats. 

Lord Houghton^^ calls this cemetery '^ one of the 
most beautiful spots on which the eye and heart of 
man can rest,'* and Shelley speaks of it as '* making 



THE TOMB OF KEATS 59 

one in love with death, to think one should be 
buried in so sweet a place ;''^* and indeed when I 
saw the violets and the daisies and the poppies 
that overgrow the tomb, I remembered how the 
dead poet had once told his friend that he thought 
the '' intensest pleasure he had received ii. life was 
in watching the growth of flowers," and how another 
time, after lying a while quite still, he murmured 
in some strange prescience of early death, "I feel 
the flowers growing over me."^^ 

But this time-worn stone and these wild flowers 
are but poor memorials* of one so great as Keats : 
most of all, too, in this city of Rome, which pays 
such honor to her dead ; where popes and em- 
perors and saints and cardinals lie hidden in 
'' porphyry wombs,*' or couched in baths of jasper 
and chalcedony and malachite, ablaze with pre- 
cious stones and metals, and tended with continued 
service. For very noble is the site, and worthy of 
a noble monument.^^ Behind looms the grey pyra- 
mid, symbol of the world's age, and filled with 

*Recently some well-meaning persons have placed a marble slab 
on the wall of the cemetery with a medallion-profile of Keats on it, 
and some mediocre lines of poetry. l*^ The face is ugly and rather 
hatchet-shaped, with thick, sensual lips, and is utterly unlike the 
poet himself, who was very beautiful to look upon. *'His counte- 
nance," says a lady i^ who saw him at one of Hazlitt's lectures, *' lives 
in my mind as one of singular beauty and brightness; it had the ex- 



60 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

memories of the sphinx^^ and the lotus leaf and the 
glories of old Nile ; in front is the Monte Testaccio,^^ 
built, it is said, with the broken fragments of the 
vessels in which all the nations of the East and the 
West brought their tribute to Rome ; and a little 
distance off, along the slope of the hill under the 
Aurelian wall, some tall, gaunt cypresses rise, like 
burnt-out funeral torches,^^ to mark the spot where 
Shelley's heart (that '' heart of hearts ! '')-^ lies in the 
earth ; and above all, the soil on which we tread is 
very Rome! 

As I stood beside the mean grave of this divine 
boy, I thought of him as of a Priest of Beauty 
slain before his time ; and the vision of Guido's St. 
Sebastian^^ came before my eyes as I saw him at 
Genoa, a lovely brown boy, with crisp, clustering 
hair^* and red lips, bound by his evil enemies to a 
tree, and though pierced by arrows, raising his eyes 
with divine, impassioned gaze toward the Eternal 
Beauty of the opening heavens. And thus my 
thoughts shaped themselves to rhyme : 

pression as if he had been looking on some glorious sight." And 
this is the idea which Severn's picture^^ of him gives. Even Haydon's 
rough pen and ink sketches of him is better than this ** marble libel," 
which I hope will soon be taken down. I think the best representa- 
tion of the poet would be a coloured bust, like that of the young 
Rajah of Koolapoor 27 at Florence, which is a lovely and life-like work 
of art. — Author's Note, 



THE TOMB OF KEATS 6l 



HEU MISERANDE PUER^s 

Rid of the world's injustice and its pai-n, 

He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue ;29 

Taken from life while life and love were new, 

The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, 

Fair as Sebastian and as foully slain. 

No cypress shades his grave, nor funeral yew. 

But red-lipped daisies, violets drenched with dew. 

And sleepy poppies, catch the evening rain. 

O proudest heart that broke for misery ! 
O saddest poet that the world hath seen ! 
O sweetest singer of the English land ! 
Thy name was writ in water on the sand. 
But our tears shall keep thy memory green, 
And make it flourish like a Basil-tree.^^ 

Rome, iSyy. 



KEATS' SONNET ON BLUE 



"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, *'be happy; you shall have 
your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight and stain 
it with my own heart's-blood. AH that I ask of you in return is 
that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, 
though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty.'* 

— The Nightingale and the Rose, 

The most joyous poet is not he who sows the desolate highways 
of this world with the barren seed of laughter, but he who makes 
his sorrow most musical. — Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf : L^ Envoi, 

The joy of poetry comes never from the subject, but from an in- 
ventive handling of rhythmical language. 

— Lecture on the English Renaissance. 

Art finds her own perfection within, and not outside of, herself. 
. . . She is a veil, rather than a mirror. She has flowers that 
no forests know of, birds that no woodland possesses. She makes 
and unmakes many worlds, and can draw the moon from heaven 
with a scarlet thread. . . . She can bid the almond tree blossom in 
winter, and send the snow upon the ripe cornfield. iVt her word 
the frost lays its silver finger on the burning mouth of June. 

— The Decay of Lying, 

The world is made by the singer for the dreamer. 

— The Critic as A rtist. Part I, 



KEATS' SONNET ON BLUE' 

During my tour in America I happened one 
evening to find myself in Louisville,^ Kentucky. 
The subject I had selected to speak on was The 
Mission of Art in the Nineteenth Century^ and in 
the course of my lecture I had occasion to quote 
Keats* sonnet on Blue as an example of the poet's 
delicate sense of colour-harmonies. When my 
lecture was concluded there came round to see me 
a lady of middle age, with a sweet, gentle manner 
and a most musical voice. She introduced herself 
to me as Mrs. Speed,^ the daughter of George 
Keats,^ and invited me to come and examine the 
Keats manuscripts in her possession. I spent most 
of the next day with her, reading the letters of 
Keats to her father, some of which were at that 
time unpublished,^ poring over torn yellow leaves 
and faded scraps of paper, and wondering at the 
little Dante in which Keats had written those mar- 
vellous notes on Milton.^ Some months afterwards 

65 



66 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

when I was in California, I received a letter from 
Mrs. Speed asking my acceptance of the original 
manuscript of the sonnet which I had quoted in my 
lecture. This manuscript I have had reproduced 
here/ as it seems to me to possess much psycholog- 
ical interest. It shows us the conditions that pre- 
ceded the perfected form, the gradual growth, not 
of the conception but of the expression, and the 
workings of that spirit of selection which is the 
secret of style. In the case of poetry, as in the 
case of the other arts, what may appear to be 
simply technicaHties of method are in their essence 
spiritual, not mechanical, and although, in all 
lovely work, what concerns us is the ultimate form, 
not the conditions that necessitate that form, yet 
the preference that precedes perfection, the evolu- 
tion of the beauty, and the mere making of the 
music, have, if not their artistic value, at least their 
value to the artist. 

It will be remembered that this sonnet was first 
published in 1848, by Lord Houghton^ in his Life^ 
Letters^ and Literary Remains of John Keats. Lord 
Houghton does not definitely state where he found 
it, but it was probably among the Keats manuscripts 
belonging to Mr. Charles Brown.^ It is evidently 
taken from a version later than that in my possession, 
as it accepts all the corrections, and makes three 



KEATS* SONNET ON BLUE 67 

variations. As in my manuscript the first line is 
torn away, I give the sonnet here as it appears in 
Lord Houghton's edition.^^ 

ANSWER TO A SONNET ENDING THUS: — 

** Dark eyes are dearer far 1^ 
Than those that make the hyacinthine bell." * 

By J. H. REYNOLDS.12 

Blue ! 'Tis the life of heaven, — the domain 

Of Cynthia, — the wide palace of the sun, — 
The tent of Hesperus and all his train, — . 

The bosomer of clouds, gold, grey and dun. 
Blue ! 'Tis the life of waters — ocean 

And all its vassal streams : pools numberless 
May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can 

Subside if not to dark-blue nativeness. 
Blue ! gentle cousin of the forest green, 

Married to green in all the sweetest flowers, 
Forget-me-not,— the blue-bell,— and, that queen 

Of secrecy, the violet : what strange powers 
Hast thou, as a mere shadow ! But how great, 

When in an Eye thou art alive with fate ! 

Feb,, i8i8)-^ 

In The Athenceum of the 3rd of June, 1876,^* ap- 
peared a letter from Mr. A. J. Horwood, stating 
that he had in his possession a copy of The Garden 
of Florence in which this sonnet was transcribed. 

* * Make ' is of course a mere printer's error for ' mock,' and was 
subsequently corrected by Lord Houghton. The sonnet as given in 
The Garden of Florence reads 'orbs ' for ' Xho^t J* —Author's Note, 



68 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Mr. Horwood, who was unaware that the sonnet 
had been already published by Lord Houghton, 
gives the transcript at length. His version reads 
hue for life in the first line, and bright for wide in 
the second, and gives the sixth line thus : 

" With all his tributary streams, pools numberless," 

a foot too long: it also reads to for of in the 
ninth line. Mr. Buxton Forman is of the opinion 
that these variations are decidedly genuine, ^^ but in- 
dicative of an earlier state of the poem than that 
adopted in Lord Houghton's edition. However, 
now that we have before us Keats' first draft of his 
sonnet, it is difficult to believe that the sixth line in 
Mr. Horwood's version is really a genuine varia- 
tion.-^^ Keats may have written, 

" Ocean 
His tributary streams, pools numberless," 

and the transcript may have been carelessly made, 
but having got his line right in his first draft, Keats 
probably did not spoil it in his second. The 
AthencBum version inserts a comma after art in the 
last line, which seems to me a decided improvement, 
and eminently characteristic of Keats' method. -^^ I 
am glad to see that Mr. Buxton Forman has adopted 
it. 

As for the corrections that Lord Houghton's 



KEATS' SONNET ON BLUE 69 

version shows Keats to have made in the eighth and 
ninth Hnes of this sonnet, it is evident that they 
sprang from Keats' reluctance to repeat the same 
word in consecutive Hnes, except in cases where a 
word's music or meaning was to be emphasized. 
The substitution of its for his in the sixth line is 
more difficult of explanation. It is due probably 
to a desire on Keats' part not to mar by any echo 
the fine personification of Hesperus. 

It may be noticed that Keats' own eyes were 
brown, and not blue,^^ as stated by Mrs. Procter to 
Lord Houghton. Mrs. Speed showed me a note to 
that effect written by Mrs. George Keats on the 
margin of the page in Lord Houghton's Life (page 
100, vol. i), where Mrs. Procter's description is 
given. Cowden Clarke^^ made a similar correction 
in his *' Recollections; "^^ and in some of the later 
editions of Lord Houghton's book the word ''blue" 
is struck out. In Severn's^^ portraits of Keats also 
the eyes are given as brown. 

The exquisite sense of colour expressed in the 
ninth and tenth Hnes may be paralleled by 

'^ The Ocean with its vastness, its blue green," 
of the sonnet to George Keats.^^ 



ENGLISH POETESSES 



Like the philosopher of the Platonic vision, the poet is the spec- 
tator of all time and all existence. For him no form is obsolete, no 
subject out of date; rather, whatever of life and passion the world 
has known in the desert of Judaea or in Arcadian valley, by the 
ruins of Troy or Damascus, in the crowded and hideous streets of 
the modern city, or by the pleasant ways of Camelot, all lies before 
him like an open scroll, all is still instinct with beautiful life. 

— Lecture on the E^tglish Renaissance, 1882, 

Lying and poetry are arts— arts, as Plato saw, not unconnected 
with each other— and they require the most careful study, the most 
disinterested devotion. — The Decay of Lying, 

Rhyme, that exquisite echo which in the Muse's hollow hill creates 
and answers its own voice ; rhyme, which in the hands of the real 
artist becomes not merely a material element of metrical beauty, but 
a spiritual element of thought and passion also, waking a new mood, 
it may be, or stirring a fresh train of ideas, or opening by mere 
sweetness and suggestion of sound some golden door at which the 
Imagination itself had knocked in vain ! 

— The Critic as Artist. Part L. 

In the case of most of our modern poets, when we have analysed 
them down to an adjective, we can go no further, or, we care to go 
no further. 

What English poetry has to fear is not the fascination of dainty 
meter or delicate form, but the predominance of the intellectual 
spirit over the spirit of beauty. — A Note on Some Modern Poets, 
The Woman's Worlds December^ 1888, 



ENGLISH POETESSES' 

England has given to the world one great 
poetess^ — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, By her side 
Mr. Swinburne would place Miss Christina Rossetti, 
whose New Year hymn^ he describes* as so much 
the noblest of sacred poems in our language, that 
there is none which comes near it enough to stand 
second. *' It is a hymn," he tells us, ^'touched as 
with the fire, and bathed as in the light of sun- 
beams, tuned as to chords and cadences of refluent 
sea-music beyond reach of harp and organ, large 
echoes of the serene and sonorous tides of heaven." 
Much as I admire Miss Rossetti's work, her subtle 
choice of words, her rich imagery, her artistic 
naivete^ wherein curious notes of strangeness and 
simplicity are fantastically blended together, I can- 
not but think that Mr. Swinburne has, with noble 
and natural loyalty, placed her on too lofty a ped- 
estal. To me, she is simply a very delightful artist 
in poetry. This is indeed something so rare that 

73 



74 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

when we meet it we cannot fail to love it, but it is 
not everything. Beyond it and above it are higher 
and more sunlit heights of song, a larger vision, 
and an ampler air, a music at once more passionate 
and more profound, a creative energy that is born 
of the spirit, a winged rapture that is born of the 
soul, a force and fervour of mere utterance that has 
all the wonder of the prophet, and not a Httle of 
the consecration of the priest. Mrs. Browning is 
unapproachable by any woman who has ever 
touched lyre or blown through reed since the days 
of the great ^olian poetess.^ But Sappho, who, 
to the antique world, was a pillar of flame, is to us 
but a pillar of shadow. Of her poems, burnt with 
other most precious work by Byzantine Emperor 
and by Roman Pope, only a few fragments re- 
main.^ Possibly they lie mouldering in the scented 
darkness of an Egyptian tomb, clasped in the 
withered hands of some long-dead lover. Some 
Greek monk at Athos''' may even now be poring 
over an ancient manuscript, whose crabbed char- 
acters conceal lyric or ode by her whom the Greeks 
spoke of as **The Poetess," just as they termed 
Homer ''The Poet," who was to them the tenth 
Muse, the flower of the Graces, the child of Eros, 
and the pride of Hellas — Sappho, with the sweet 
voice, the bright, beautiful eyes, the dark hyacinth- 



ENGLISH POETESSES 75 

coloured hair. But, practically, the work of the mar- 
vellous singer of Lesbos^ is entirely lost to us. We 
have a few rose leaves out of her garden. That is all. 
Literature nowadays survives marble and bronze, 
but in old days, in spite of the Roman poet's noble 
boast. It was not so. The fragile clay vases of the 
Greeks still keep for us pictures of Sappho, deli- 
cately painted in black and red and white ; but of 
her song we have only the echo of an echo. 

Of all the women of history, Mrs. Browning is 
the only one that we could name in any possible 
or remote conjunction with Sappho. Sappho was 
undoubtedly a far more flawless and perfect artist. 
She stirred the whole antique world more than Mrs. 
Browning ever stirred our modern age. Never had 
Love such a singer. Even in the few lines that 
remain to us, the passion seems to scorch and bum. 
But, as unjust Time, who has crowned her with the 
barren laurels of fame, has twined with them the 
dull poppies of oblivion, let us turn from the mere 
memory of a poetess to one whose song still remains 
to us as an imperishable glory of our literature ; to 
her who heard the cry of the children from dark 
mine and crowded factory, and made England weep 
over its little ones ; ^ who in the feigned sonnets 
from the Portuguese ^^ sang of the spiritual mystery 
of Love, and of the intellectual gifts that Love 



76 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

brings to the soul ; who had faith in all that is 
worthy, and enthusiasm for all that is great, and 
pity for all that suffers ; who wrote the Vision of 
Poets, and Casa Guidi Windows and Aurora Leigh}^ 
As one, to whom I owe my love of poetry no 
less than my love of country, has said of her: 

Still on our ears 
The clear ^* Excelsior" from a woman's lip 
Rings out across the Apennines, although 
The woman's brow lies pale and cold in death 
With all the mighty marble dead in Florence. 
For while great songs can stir the heart of men, 
Spreading their full vibrations through the world 
In ever-widening circles till they reach 
The Throne of God, and song becomes a prayer, 
And prayer brings down the liberating strength 
That kindles nations to heroic deeds, 
She lives — the great-souled poetess who saw 
From Casa Guidi ^- windows Freedom dawn 
On Italy, and gave the glory back 
In sunrise hymns to all Humanity ! 

She lives indeed, and not alone in the heart of 
Shakespeare's England, but in the heart of Dante's 
Italy also. To Greek literature she owed her 
scholarly culture,^^ but modern Italy created her 
passion for Liberty. When she crossed the Alps,^* 
she became filled with a new ardour, and from that 
fine eloquent mouth, that we can still see in her 
portraits, broke forth such a noble and majestic 



ENGLISH POETESSES ^^ 

outburst of lyrical song as had not been heard from 
woman's lips for more than two thousand years. 
It is pleasant to think that an English poetess was 
to a certain extent a real factor in bringing about 
that unity of Italy that was Dante's dream, and if 
Florence drove her great singer into exile, she at 
least welcomed within her walls the later singer that 
England had sent to her. 

If one were asked the chief qualities of Mrs. 
Browning's work, one would say, as Mr. Swinburne 
said of Byron's, its sincerity and its strength. 
Faults it, of course, possesses. *' She would rhyme 
moon to table," used to be said of her in jest; and 
certainly no more monstrous rhymes are to be 
found in literature, than some of those we come 
across in Mrs. Browning's poems. But her rugged- 
ness was never the result of carelessness. It was 
deliberate as her letters to Mr. Horne^^ show very 
clearly. She refused to sandpaper her Muse. She 
disliked facile smoothness and artificial polish. In 
her very rejection of art she was an artist. She 
intended to produce a certain effect by certain 
means, and she succeeded ; and her indifference to 
complete assonance in rhyme often gives a splendid 
richness to her verse, and brings into it a pleasur- 
able element of surprise. 

In philosophy she was a Platonist, in politics an 



78 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Opportunist. She attached herself to no particular 
party. She loved the people when they were king- 
like, and kings when they showed themselves to 
be men. Of the real value and motive of poetry 
she had a most exalted ideal. ''Poetry/* she says, 
in the preface to one of her volumes, '' has been as 
serious a thing to me as life itself ; and life has 
been a very serious thing. There has been no 
playing at skittles for me in either. I never mis- 
took pleasure for the final cause of poetry, nor 
leisure for the hour of the poet. I have done my 
work^^ so far, not as mere hand and head work 
apart from the personal being, but as the com- 
pletest expression of that being to which I could at- 
tain." It certainly is her completest expression, and 
through it she realizes her fullest perfection. *' The 
poet," she says, elsewhere, '' is at once richer and 
poorer than he used to be ; he wears better broad- 
cloth, but speaks no more oracles." These words 
give us the keynote of her view of the poet's mis- 
sion. He was to utter Divine oracles, to be at 
once inspired prophet and holy priest; and as such 
we may, I think, without exaggeration, conceive 
her. She was a Sibyl delivering a message to the 
world, sometimes through stammering lips, and 
once at least with blinded eyes, yet always with the 
true fire and fervour of lofty and unshaken faith, 



ENGLISH POETESSES 79 

always with the great raptures of a spiritual na- 
ture, the high ardours of an impassioned soul. As 
we read her best poems we feel that, though 
Apollo's shrine be empty and the bronze tripod over- 
thrown, and the vale of Delphi desolate, still the 
Pythia is not dead.^"^ In our own age she has sung 
for us, and this land gave her new birth. Indeed, 
Mrs. Browning is the wisest of the Sibyls, wiser 
even than that mighty figure whom Michael An- 
gelo has painted on the roof of the Sistine Chapel 
at Rome, poring over the scroll of mystery, and 
trying to decipher the secrets of Fate; for she 
realized that, while Knowledge is Power, Suffering 
is part of Knowledge. 

To her influence, almost as much as to the higher 
education of women, I would be inclined to attrib- 
ute the really remarkable awakening of woman's 
song that characterizes the latter half of our cen- 
tury in England. No country has ever had so 
many poetesses at once. Indeed, when one remem- 
bers that the Greeks had only nine muses, one is 
sometimes apt to fancy that we have too many. And 
yet the work done by women in the sphere of 
poetry is really of a very high standard of ex- 
cellence. In England we have always been prone 
to underrate the value of tradition in literature. In 
our eagerness to find a new voice and a fresh mode 



8o DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

of music, we have forgotten how beautiful Echo 
may be. We look first for individuality and person- 
ality, and these are, indeed, the chief characteristics 
of the masterpieces of our Hterature, either in prose 
or verse ; but deliberate culture and a study of the 
best models, if united to an artistic temperament 
and a nature susceptible of exquisite impressions, 
may produce much that is admirable, much that is 
worthy of phrase. It would be quite impossible to 
give a complete catalogue of all the women who since 
Mrs. Browning*s day have tried lute and lyre. Mrs. 
Pfeiflfer, Mrs. Hamilton-King, Mrs. Augusta Web- 
ster, Graham Tomson, Miss Mary Robinson, Jean 
Ingelow, Miss May Kendall, Miss Nesbit, Miss 
May Probyn, Mrs. Craik, Mrs. Meynell, Miss Chap- 
man,^^ and many others have done really good 
work in poetry, either in the grave Dorian mode of 
thoughtful and intellectual verse, or in the light and 
graceful forms of old French'song, or in the roman- 
tic manner of antique ballad, or in that ** moment's 
monument," as Rossetti called it, the intense and 
concentrated sonnet. Occasionally one is tempted 
to wish that the quick artistic faculty that women 
undoubtedly possess developed itself somewhat more 
in prose and somewhat less in verse. Poetry is for 
our highest moods, when we wish to be with the 
gods, and in poetry nothing but the very best 



ENGLISH POETESSES 8 1 

should satisfy us ; but prose is our daily bread, and 
the lack of good prose is one of the chief blots on 
our culture. French prose, even in the hands of the 
most ordinary writers, is always readable, but Eng- 
lish prose is detestable. We have a few, a very 
few masters, such as they are. We have Carlyle,^^ 
who should not be imitated ; and Mr. Pater, ^^ who, 
through the subtle perfection of his form, is inimita- 
ble absolutely ; and Mr. Froude, who is useful ; and 
Matthew Arnold, who is a model ; and Mr. George 
Meredith, ^^ who is a warning ; and Mr. Lang, who 
is the divine amateur ; and Mr. Stevenson,^^ who is 
the humane artist; and Mr. Ruskin,^^ whose rhythm 
and colour and fine rhetoric and marvellous music 
of words are entirely unattainable. But the general 
prose that one reads in magazines and in newspa- 
pers is terribly dull and cumbrous, heavy in move- 
ment and uncouth or exaggerated in expression. 
Possibly some day our women of letters will apply 
themselves more definitely to prose. Their light 
touch, and exquisite ear, and delicate sense of bal- 
ance and proportion would be of no small service to 
us. I can fancy women bringing a new manner 
into our literature.^* 

However, we have to deal here with women as 
poetesses, and it is interesting to note that, though 
Mrs. Browning's influence undoubtedly contributed 



82 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

very largely to the development of this new song 
movement, if I may so term it, still there seems to have 
been never a time during the last three hundred years 
when the women of this kingdom did not cultivate, 
if not the art, at least the habit, of writing poetry. 
Who the first English poetess was, I cannot say. I 
believe it was the Abbess Juliana Berners,^^ who 
lived in the fifteenth century ; but I have no doubt 
that Mr. Freeman would be able at a moment's 
notice to produce some wonderful Saxon or Nor- 
man poetess, whose works cannot be read without 
a glossary, and even with its aid are completely 
unintelligible. For my own part, I am content 
with the Abbess Juliana, who wrote enthusiastically 
about hawking; and after her I would mention 
Anne Askew,^^ who, in prison and on the eve of 
her fiery martyrdom, wrote a ballad that has, at any 
rate, a pathetic and historical interest. Queen Eliz- 
abeth's ''most sweet and sententious ditty ''^'^ on 
Mary Stuart is highly praised by Puttenham, a con- 
temporary critic, as an example of *' Exargasia, or 
the Gorgeous in Literature,'' which somehow seems 
a very suitable epithet for a great Queen's poems. 
The term she applies to the unfortunate Queen of 
Scots, *' the daughter of debate " has, of course, 
long since passed into literature. The Countess of 
Pembroke,^^ Sir Philip Sidney's sister, was much ad- 



ENGLISH POETESSES 83 

mired as a poetess in her day. In 161 3 ''the 
learned, virtuous, and truly noble ladie, EHzabeth 
Carew,"^^ published A Tragedie of Mariam, the 
Faire Queene of Jewry ^ and a few years later the 
" noble ladie Diana Primrose *' wrote A Chain of 
Pearl, which is a panegyric on the ''peerless 
graces'' of Gloriana. Mary Morpeth, the friend 
and admirer of Drummond of Hawthornden ; Lady 
Mary Wroth,^^ to whom Ben Jonson dedicated The 
Alchemist \ and the Princess Elizabeth,^^ the sister 
of Charles I, should also be mentioned. After the 
Restoration, women applied themselves with still 
greater ardour to the study of literature and the 
practice of poetry. Margaret, Duchess of New- 
castle,^^ was a true woman of letters, and some of 
her verses are extremely pretty and graceful. Mrs. 
Aphra Behn^^ was the first EngHsh woman who 
adopted literature as a regular profession. Mrs. 
Katherine Philips,^* according to Mr. Gosse, in- 
vented sentimentality. As she was praised by 
Dryden and mourned by Cowley, let us hope that 
she may be forgiven. Keats came across her poems 
at Oxford when he was writing Endymion and 
found in one of them " a most delicate fancy of the 
Fletcher kind,*' but I fear that nobody reads " The 
Matchless Orinda'* now. Of Lady Winchilsea's ^^ 
Noctur7tal Reverie, Wordsworth said that, with the 



84 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

exception of Pope^s Windsor Forest y it was the only 
poem of the period intervening between Paradise 
Lost and Thomson's Seasons that contained a single 
new image of external nature. Lady Rachel Rus- 
sell,^^ who may be said to have inaugurated the let- 
ter-writing literature of England ; . Eliza Haywood/^ 
who is immortalized by the badness of her work, 
and has a niche in The Dunciad ; and the Mar- 
chioness of Wharton,^ whose poems Waller said he 
admired, are very remarkable types^ the finest of 
them being, of course, the first named, who was a 
woman of heroic mould and of a most noble dig- 
nity of nature. Indeed, though the English poet- 
esses up to the time of Mrs. Browning cannot be 
said to have produced any work of absolute genius, 
they are certainly interesting figures, fascinating 
subjects for study. Amongst them we find Lady 
Mary Wortley Montagu,^^ who had all the caprice 
of Cleopatra, and whose letters are delightful read- 
ing; Mrs. Centilivre,^ who wrote one brilliant 
comedy; Lady Anne Barnard,^^ whose Atild Robin 
Gray was described by Sir Walter Scott as ** worth 
all the dialogues Corydon and Phillis have together 
spoken from the days of Theocritus downwards,*' 
and is certainly a very beautiful and touching poem ; 
Esther Vanhomrigh^^ and Hester Johnson,^^ the Va- 
nessa and the Stella of Dean Swift's life; Mrs. 
Thrale^^ the friend of the great Lexicographer; the 



ENGLISH POETESSES 85 

worthy Mrs. Barbauld ;^^ the excellent Mrs. Hannah 
More ;^^ the industrious Joanna Baillie ;^'^ the admira- 
ble Mrs. Chapone/^ whose Ode to Solitude always 
fills me with the wildest passion for society, and 
who will at least be remembered as the patroness 
of the establishment at which Becky Sharp was ed- 
ucated ; Miss Anna Seward/^ who was called the 
*'Swan of Lichfield"; poor L. E. L./^ whom Dis- 
raeli described in one of his clever letters to his 
sister as *'the personification of Brompton — pink 
satin dress, white satin shoes, red cheeks, snub nose, 
and her hair a la Sappho '' ; Mrs. Radcliffe,^^ who 
introduced the romantic novel, and has conse- 
quently much to answer for; the beautiful Duchess 
of Devonshire,^^ of whom Gibbon said that she was 
''made for something better than a Duchess"; the 
two wonderful sisters. Lady Dufferin and Mrs. 
Norton ;^^ Mrs. Tighe,^* whose Psyche Keats read 
with pleasure; Constantia Grierson,^^ a marvellous 
bluestocking in her time; Mrs. Hemans;^^ pretty, 
charming '* Perdita,''^"^ who flirted alternately with 
poetry and the Prince Regent, played divinely in The 
Winter's Tale, was brutally attacked by Gifford, and 
has left us a pathetic little poem on the snowdrop ; 
and Emily Bronte,^^ whose poems are instinct with 
tragic power, and seem often on the verge of being 
great. 

Old fashions in literature are not so pleasant as 



86 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERK:A 

old fashions in dress. I like the costume of the age 
of powder better than the poetry of the age of 
Pope. But if one adopts the historical standpoint — 
and this is, indeed, the only standpoint from which 
we can ever form a fair estimate of work that is 
not absolutely of the highest order — we cannot fail 
to see that many of the English poetesses who pre- 
ceded Mrs. Browning, were women of no ordinary 
talent, and that if the majority of them looked upon 
poetry simply as a department of belles lettres, so 
in most cases did their contemporaries. Since Mrs. 
Browning's day our woods have become full of sing- 
ing birds, and if I venture to ask them to apply 
themselves more to prose and less to song, it is not 
that I like poetical prose, but that I love the prose 
of poets. 



LONDON MODELS 



Most of our modern portrait painters are doomed to absolute 
oblivion. They never paint what they see. They paint what the pub- 
lic sees, and the public never sees anything. 

— The Decay of Lying, 

Not width but intensity is the true aim of modern art. 

— De Profiindis, 

All beautiful things belong to the same age. ... To those who 
are preoccupied with the beauty of form nothing else seems of much 
importance. — Fen, Pencil, and Poison. 

Art is a passion, and, in matters of art, Thought is inevitably 
coloured by emotion, and so is fluid rather than fixed, and, depend- 
ing upon fine moods and exquisite moments, cannot be narrowed 
into the rigidity of a scientific formula or a theological dogma. 

— The Critic as Artist. Part II, 

Whatever work we have in the nineteenth century must rest on 
the two poles of personality and perfection. 

— Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf: L^ Envoi. 

While the poet can be pictorial or not, as he chooses, the painter 
must be pictorial always. For a painter is limited, not to what he 
sees in nature, but to what upon canvas may be seen. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part I, 



LONDON MODELS' 

Professional models are a purely modern In- 
vention. To the Greeks, for instance, they were quite 
unknown. Mr. Mahaffy,^ it is true, tells us that 
Perikles used to present peacocks to the great ladies 
of Athenian society in order to induce them to sit to 
his friend Pheidias,^ and we know that Polygnotus* 
introduced into his picture of the Trojan women 
the face of Elpinike,^ the celebrated sister of the 
great Conservative leader^ of the day, but these 
grandes dames clearly do not come under our cate- 
gory. As for the old masters, they undoubtedly 
made constant studies from their pupils and 
apprentices, and even their religious pictures are 
full of the portraits of their friends and relations, 
but they do not seem to have had the inestimable 
advantage of the existence of a class of people 
whose sole profession is to pose. In fact the model, 
in our sense of the word, is the direct creation of 
Academic Schools. 

89 



90 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Every country now has its own models, except 
America. In New York, and even in Boston, a good 
model is so great a rarity that most of the artists 
are reduced to painting Niagara'^ and millionaires. 
In Europe, however, it is different. Here we have 
plenty of models, and of every nationality. The 
Italian models are the best. The natural grace of 
their attitudes, as well as the wonderful picturesque- 
ness of their colouring, makes them facile — often 
too facile — subjects for the painter's brush. The 
French models, though not so beautiful as the 
ItaHan, possess a quickness of intellectual sympathy, 
a capacity in fact of understanding the artist, which 
is quite remarkable. They have also a great com- 
mand over the varieties of facial expression, are 
peculiarly dramatic, and can chatter the argot of 
the atelier as cleverly as the critic of the Gil Bias. 
The EngHsh models form a class entirely by them- 
selves. They are not so picturesque as the Italian, 
nor so clever as the French, and they have abso- 
lutely no tradition, so to speak, of their order. Now 
and then some old veteran knocks at a studio door, 
and proposes to sit as Ajax defying the lightning, 
or as King Lear upon the blasted heath. One of 
them some time ago called on a popular painter 
who, happening at the moment to require his ser- 
vices, engaged him, and told him to begin by 



LONDON MODELS 9 1 

kneeling down in the attitude of prayer. ^^Shall I 
be Biblical or Shakespearean, sir?" asked the vet- 
eran. **Well — Shakespearean/* answered the 
artist, wondering by what subtle nuance of ex- 
pression the model would convey the difference. 
*^A11 right, sir," said the professor of posing,^ and 
he solemnly knelt down and began to wink with his 
left eye ! This class, however, is dying out. As a 
rule the model, nowadays, is a pretty girl, from 
about twelve to twenty-five years of age, who knows 
nothing about art, cares less, and is merely anxious 
to earn seven or eight shillings a day without much 
trouble. English models rarely look at a picture, 
and never venture on any aesthetic theories. In 
fact they realize very completely Mr. Whistler's 
idea of the function of an art-critic, for they pass 
no criticisms at all.^ They accept all schools of art 
with the grand catholicity of the auctioneer/^ and 
sit to a fantastic young impressionist as readily 
as to a learned and laborious academician. They 
are neither for the Whistlerites, nor against them ; 
the quarrel between the school of facts and the 
school of effects^^ touches them not; idealistic and 
naturalistic are words that convey no meaning to 
their ears; they merely desire that the studio 
shall be warm, and the lunch hot, for all charming 
artists give their models lunch. 



92 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

As to what they are asked to do they are 
equally indifferent. On Monday they will don the 
rags of a beggar-girl for Mr. Pumper, whose pa- 
thetic pictures of modern life draw such tears from 
the public, and on Tuesday they will pose in a 
peplum for Mr. Phoebus, who thinks that all really 
artistic subjects are necessarily B.C. They career 
gaily through all centuries and through all cos- 
tumes, and, like actors, are only interesting when 
they are not themselves. They are extremely 
good-natured, and very accommodating. *' What 
do you sit for?'' said a young artist to a model 
who had sent him in her card (all models by the 
way have cards and a small black bag). '^ Oh, for 
anything you like^ sir," said the girl; *' landscape 
if necessary! '' 

Intellectually, it must be acknowledged, they are 
Philistines, but physically they are perfect — at 
least some are. Though none of them can talk 
Greek, many can look Greek, which to a nineteenth- 
century painter is naturally of great importance. 
If they are allowed, they chatter a great deal, but 
they never say anything. Their observations are 
the only banalites heard in Bohemia. However, 
though they cannot appreciate the artist as an artist, 
they are quite ready to appreciate the artist as a 
man. They are very sensitive to kindness, respect, 
and generosity. A beautiful model who had sat 



LONDON MODELS 93 

for two years to one of our most distinguished 
English painters, got engaged to a street vendor 
of penny ices. On her marriage the painter sent 
her a pretty wedding present, and received in re- 
turn a nice letter of thanks with the following re- 
markable postscript: " Never eat the green ices! " 

When they are tired a wise artist gives them a 
rest. Then they sit in a chair and read penny 
dreadfuls, till they are roused from the tragedy of 
literature to take their place again in the tragedy 
of art. A few of them smoke cigarettes. This, 
however, is regarded by the other models as show- 
ing a want of seriousness, and is not generally ap- 
proved of. They are engaged by the day and by 
the half day. The tariff is a shilling an hour, to 
which great artists usually add an omnibus fare. 
The two best things about them are their extraor- 
dinary prettiness and their extreme respectability. 
As a class they are very well-behaved, particularly 
those who sit for the figure, a fact which is curious 
or natural according to the view one takes of 
human nature. They usually marry well, and 
sometimes they marry the artist. In neither case 
do they ever sit again. For an artist to marry his 
model is as fatal as for a gourmet to marry his 
cook ; the one gets no sittings, and the other gets 
no dinners. 

On the whole the English female models are very 



94 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

naive, very natural, and very good-humoured. The 
virtues which the artist values most in them are 
prettiness and punctuality. Every sensible model 
consequently keeps a diary of her engagements 
and dresses neatly. The bad season is of course 
the summer, when the artists are out of town. 
However, of late years some artists have engaged 
their models to follow them, and the wife of one 
of our most charming painters has often had three 
or four models under her charge in the country, so 
that the work of her husband and his friends should 
not be interrupted. In France the models migrate 
en masse to the little seaport villages or forest ham- 
lets where the painters congregate. The EngHsh 
models, however, wait patiently in London, as a 
rule, till the artists come back. Nearly all of them 
live with their parents, and help to support the 
house. They have every qualification for being 
immortalized in art except that of beautiful hands. 
The hands of the English model are nearly always 
coarse and red. 

As for the male models, there is the veteran whom 
we have mentioned above. He has all the tradi- 
tions of the grand style, and is rapidly disappearing 
with the school he represents. An old man who 
talks about Fuseli^^ is of course unendurable, and 
besides, patriarchs have ceased to be fashionable sub- 



LONDON MODELS 95 

jects. Then there is the true Academy model. He 
is usually a man of thirty, rarely good-looking, but 
a perfect miracle of muscles. In fact he is the 
apotheosis of anatomy, and is so conscious of his 
own splendour that he tells you of his tibia and his 
thorax, as if no one else had anything of the kind. 
Then come the Oriental models. The supply of 
these is limited, but there are always about a dozen 
in London. They are very much sought after, as 
they can remain immobile for hours, and generally 
possess lovely costumes. However, they have a poor 
opinion of English art, which they regard as some- 
thing between a vulgar personaHty and a common- 
place photograph. Next we have the Italian youth 
who has either come over specially to be a model, 
or takes to it when his organ is out of repair. He 
is often quite charming with his large melancholy 
eyes, his crisp hair, and his slim brown figure. -^^ It 
is true he eats garHc, but then he can stand like a 
faun and couch^* like a leopard, so he is forgiven. 
He is always full of pretty compliments, and has 
been known to have kind words of encouragement 
for even our greatest artists. As for the English 
lad of the same age, he never sits at all. Appar- 
ently he does not regard the career of a model as a 
serious profession. In any case he is rarely if ever 
to be got hold of. English boys too are difficult to 



96 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

find. Sometimes an ex-model who has a son, will 
curl his hair, and wash his face, and bring him the 
round of the studios, all soap and shininess. The 
young school don't like him, but the older school 
do, and when he appears on the walls of the Royal 
Academy he is called ^* The Infant Samuel.'* Occa- 
sionally also an artist catches a couple of gmnins in 
the gutter and asks them to come to his studio. 
The first time they always appear, but after that 
they don't keep their appointments. They dislike 
sitting still, and have a strong and perhaps natural 
objection to looking pathetic. Besides they are 
always under the impression that the artist is 
laughing at them. It is a sad fact, but there is no 
doubt that the poor are completely unconscious of 
their picturesqueness. Those of them who can be 
induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is 
merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen 
an eccentric method of distributing alms to the un- 
deserving. Perhaps the School Board will teach 
the London gamin his own artistic value, and then 
they will be better models than they are now. 
One remarkable privilege belongs to the Academy 
model, that of extorting a sovereign from any newly 
elected Associate or R. A. They wait at Burling- 
ton House till the announcement is made, and then 
race to the hapless artist's house. The one who 



LONDON MODELS 97 

arrives first receives the money. They have of late 
been much troubled at the long distances they have 
had to run, and they look with strong disfavour on 
the election of artists who live at Hampstead or at 
Bedford Park, for it is considered a point of honour 
not to employ the underground railway, omnibuses, 
or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is 
to the swift. 

Besides the professional posers of the studio there 
are the posers of the Row, the posers at afternoon 
teas, the posers in politics, and the circus-posers. 
All four classes are delightful, but only the last 
class is ever really decorative. Acrobats and gym- 
nasts can give the young painter infinite sugges- 
tions, for they bring into their art an element of 
swiftness, of motion, and of constant change that 
the studio model necessarily lacks. What is inter- 
esting in these *^ slaves of the ring '* is that with 
them Beauty is an unconscious result, not a con- 
scious aim, the result in fact of the mathematical 
calculation of curves and distances, of absolute pre- 
cision of eye, of the scientific knowledge of the 
equilibrium of forces, and of perfect physical train- 
ing. A good acrobat is always graceful, though 
grace is never his object; he is graceful because he 
does what he has to do in the best way in which it 
can be done — graceful because he is natural. If an 



98 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

ancient Greek were to come to life now, which, con- 
sidering the probable severity of his criticism, would 
be rather trying to our conceit, he would be found 
far oftener at the circus than at the theatre. A 
good circus is an oasis of Hellenism in a world that 
reads too much to be wise, and thinks too much to 
be beautiful. If it were not for the running- 
ground at Eton, the towing-path at Oxford, the 
Thames swimming baths, and the yearly circuses, 
humanity would forget the plastic perfection of its 
own form, and degenerate into a race of short- 
sighted professors, and spectacled /r/^:/^?/^'^^/ Not 
that the circus-proprietors are, as a rule, conscious 
of their high mission. Do they not bore us with 
the haute ecole^ and weary us with Shakespearean 
clowns ? Still at least they give us acrobats, and 
the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that he 
never speaks to the audience, shows how well he 
appreciates the great truth that the aim of art is 
not to reveal personality but to please. The clown 
may be blatant, but the acrobat is always beautiful. 
He is an interesting combination of the spirit of 
Greek sculpture with the spangles of the modern 
costumier}^ He has even had his niche in the 
novels of our age, and if Manette Salomon^^ be 
the unmasking of the model, Les Freres Zemganno^'^ 
is the apotheosis of the acrobat. 



LONDON MODELS 99 

As regards the influence of the ordinary model 
on our English school of painting, it cannot be said 
that it is altogether good. It is of course an ad- 
vantage for the young artist sitting in his studio to 
be able to isolate '* a little corner of life," as the 
French 'say, from disturbing surroundings, and to 
study it under certain effects of light and shade. 
But this very isolation leads often to mere man- 
nerism in the painter, and robs him of that broad 
acceptance of the general facts of life which is the 
very essence of art. Model-painting, in a word, 
while it may be the condition of art, is not by any 
means its aim. It is simply practice, not per- 
fection. Its use trains the eye and the hand of the 
painter. Its abuse produces in his work an effect 
of mere posing and prettiness. It is the secret of 
much of the artificiality of modern art, this constant 
posing of pretty people, and when art becomes 
artificial it becomes monotonous.^^ Outside the 
little world of the studio, with its draperies and its 
bric-a-brac, Hes the world of life with its infinite, 
its Shakespearian variety. We must, however, dis- 
tinguish between the two kinds of models, those 
who sit for the figure and those who sit for 
costume. The study of the first is always excel- 
lent, but the costume model is becoming rather 
wearisome in modern pictures. It is really of very 



lOO DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

little use to dress up a London girl in Greek 
draperies and to paint her as a goddess. The robe 
may be the robe of Athens, but the face is usually 
the face of Brompton. Now and then, it is true, 
one comes across a model whose face is an exquisite 
anachronism, and who looks lovely and natural in 
the dress of any country but her own. This, how- 
ever, is rather rare. As a rule models are absolutely 
de notre siecle, and should be painted as such. 
Unfortunately they are not, and as a consequence 
we are shown every year a series of scenes from fancy 
dress balls which are called historical pictures, but 
are little more than mediocre representations of 
modern people masquerading.-^^ In France they are 
wiser. The French painter uses the model simply 
for study ; for the finished picture he goes to real 
life. 

However, we must not blame the sitters for the 
shortcomings of the artists. The English models 
are a well-behaved and hard-working class, and if 
they are more interested in artists than they are in 
art, a large section of the public is in the same 
condition, and most of our modern exhibitions 
seem to justify its choice. 



"DORIAN GRAY" AND ITS 
CRITICS 



It is absurd to have a hard-and-fast rule about what one should 
read and what one shouldn't. More than half of modern culture 
depends on what one shouldn't read. 

— Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young; 
also, The Importance of Being Earnest, 

Morality is simply the attitude we adopt toward people whom we 
personally dislike. 

— Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young; 
also, An Ideal Husband, 

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books 
are well written or badly written. That is all. 

— The Preface to ''The Picture of Dorian Gray:' 

** It is in working within limits that the master reveals himself," 
and the limitation, the very condition of any art is style. 

— The Decay of Lying, 

Start with the worship of form, and there is no secret in art that 
will not be revealed to you. — The Critic as Artist. Part II, 

Art only begins where Imitation ends. — De Profundis, 

Common sense is the enemy of romance. Leave us some unreality. 
Don't make us offensively sane. 

— Letter to The Thirteen Club, 18^4, 



^^ DORIAN GRAY^^ AND ITS 
CRITICS^ 



To THE Editor of the St. James Gazette. 

Sir: — I have read your criticism^ of my story 
The Picture of Dorian Gray^ and I need hardly say 
that I do not propose to discuss its merits or 
demerits, its personalities or its lack of personality. 
England is a free country, and ordinary English 
criticism is perfectly free and easy. Besides, I 
must admit that, either from temperament, or from, 
taste, or from both, I am quite incapable of under- 
standing how any work of art can be criticized from 
a moral standpoint. The sphere of art and the 
sphere of ethics are absolutely distinct and separate ; 
and it is to the comparison between the two that we 
owe the appearance of Mrs. Grundy, that amusing 
old lady who represents the only original form of 
humour that the middle classes of this country have 
been able to produce. What I do object to most 
strongly is, that you should have placarded the 

103 



I04 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

town with posters on which was printed in large 
letters : Mr. Oscar Wilde's Latest Advertisement ; 
A Bad Case. 

Whether the expression "A Bad Case '' refers to 
my book or to the present position of the Govern- 
ment, I cannot tell. What was silly and unneces- 
sary was the use of the term ''Advertisement.*' 

I think I may say without vanity — though I do 
not wish to appear to run vanity down — that of all 
men in England, I am the one who requires least 
advertisement. I am tired to death of being adver- 
tised. I feel no thrill when I see my name in 
a paper.^ The chronicler does not interest me any 
more. I wrote this book entirely for my own 
pleasure^ and it gave me very great pleasure to 
write it. Whether it becomes popular or not is a 
matter of absolute indifference to me. I am afraid, 
Sir, that the real advertisement is your cleverly 
written article. The EngHsh public, as a mass, 
takes no interest in a work of art until it is told that 
the work in question is immoral, and your reclame 
will, I have no doubt, largely increase the sale of 
the magazine ; in which sale, I may mention with 
some regret, I have no pecuniary interest. I remain, 
Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

i6 TiTE Street, Chelsea, June 25. 



'DORIAN GRAY*' AND ITS CRITICS I OS 



IV 

June 26, 1890. 

To THE Editor of the St. James Gazette. 

Sir: — In your issue of to-day you state that my 
brief letter published in your columns is the '* best 
reply " I can make to your article upon Dorian Gray. 
This is not so. I do not propose to fully discuss 
the matter here, but I feel bound to say that your 
article contains the most unjustifiable attack that 
has been made upon any man of letters for many 
years. The writer of it, who is quite incapable of 
concealing his personal malice, and so in some meas- 
ure destroys the effect he wishes to produce, seems 
not to have the slightest idea of the temper in 
which a work of art should be approached. To say 
that such a book as mine should be ^'chucked into the 
fire *' is silly. That is what one does with newspapers. 

Of the value of pseudo-ethical criticism in dealing 
with artistic work I have spoken already. But as 
your writer has ventured into the perilous grounds 
of literary criticism, I ask you to allow me, in fair- 
ness not only to myself but to all men to whom 
literature is a fine art, to say a few words about his 
critical method. 

He begins by assailing me with much ridiculous 



I06 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

virulence because the chief personages in my stories 
are '^puppies/' They are puppies. Does he think that 
literature went to the dogs when Thackeray wrote 
about puppydom? I think that puppies are ex- 
tremely interesting from an artistic as well as from 
a psychological point of view. They seem to me to 
be certainly more interesting than prigs ; and I am 
of opinion that Lord Henry Wotton is an excellent 
corrective of the tedious ideal shadowed forth in the 
semi-theological novels of our age.^ 

He then makes vague and fearful insinuations 
about my grammar and my erudition. Now, as 
regards grammar, I hold that, in prose at any rate, 
correctness should always be subordinated to artistic 
effect and musical cadence ; and any peculiarities of 
syntax that may occur in Dorian Gray are deliber- 
ately intended,^ and are introduced simply to show 
the value of the artistic theory in question. Your 
writer gives no instance of any such peculiarity. 
This I regret, because I do not think any such 
instances occur. 

As regards erudition, it is always difficult, even 
for the most modest of us, to remember that other 
people do not know quite as much as one does one- 
self. I myself frankly admit I cannot imagine how 
a casual reference to Suetonius and Petronius 
Arbiter can be construed into evidence of a desire 



'^DORIAN GRAY'' AND ITS CRITICS IO7 

to impress an unoffending and ill-educated public 
by an assumption of superior knowledge. I should 
fancy that the most ordinary of scholars is perfectly 
well acquainted with the Lives of the Ccesars and 
with the Satyricon}^ The Lives of the Ccesars^ 
at any rate, form part of the ordinary curriculum 
at Oxford for those who take the Honour School 
of Literce LIumaniores; ^^ and as for the SatyricoUy 
it is popular even among passmen, though I suppose 
they are obliged to read it in translations. 

The writer of the article then suggests that I, in 
common with that great and noble artist Count 
Tolstoi, take pleasure in a subject because it is 
dangerous. About such a suggestion there is this 
to be said. Romantic art deals with the exception 
and with the individual. Good people, belonging as 
they do to the normal, and so commonplace, type, 
are artistically uninteresting. But bad people are, 
from the point of view of art, fascinating studies. 
They represent colour, variety and strangeness. 
Good people exasperate one's reason ; bad people 
stir one's imagination. Your critic, if I must give 
him so honourable a title, states that the people in 
my story have no counterpart in life ; that they are, 
to use his vigorous if somewhat vulgar phrase, 
'^ mere catchpenny revelations of the non-existent." 
Quite so. If they existed they would not be worth 



I08 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

writing about.-^^ The function of the artist is to in- 
vent, not to chronicle. There are no such people. 
If there were, I would not write about them. Life 
by its reaHsm is always spoiling the subject-matter 
of art.^^ The supreme pleasure in literature is to 
realize the non-existent. 

And, finally, let me say this. You have repro- 
duced, in a journalistic form, the comedy of Much 
Ado About Nothings and have, of course, spoiled it 
in your reproduction. The poor pubHc, hearing 
from an authority as high as your own, that this is 
a wicked book that should be coerced and sup- 
pressed by a Tory Government, will, no doubt, rush 
to it and read it. But, alas ! they will find that it 
is a story with a moral. And the moral is this : 
all excess, as well as all renunciation brings its own 
punishment. The painter, Basil Hallward, wor- 
shipping physical beauty far too much, as most 
painters do, dies by the hand of one in whose soul 
he has created a monstrous and absurd vanity. 
Dorian Gray having led a life of mere sensation and 
pleasure, tries to kill Conscience, and at that moment 
kills himself. Lord Henry Wotton seeks to be 
merely the spectator of life. He finds that those 
who reject the battle are more deeply wounded 
than those who take part in it. Yes : There is a 
terrible moral in Dorian Gray — a moral which the 



''DORIAN GRAY' AND ITS CRITICS I09 

prurient will not be able to find in it, but which will 
be revealed to all whose minds are healthy. Is this 
an artistic error ? I fear it is. It is the only error 
in the book. 

I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 



Ill 



14 



To THE Editor of the St. James Gazette. 

Sir: — As you still keep up, though in a some- 
what milder form than before, your attacks on me 
and my book, you not merely confer on me the 
right, but you impose upon me the duty to reply. 

You state, in your issue of to-day that I misrep- 
resent you when I said that you suggested that a 
book so wicked as mine should be " suppressed and 
coerced by a Tory Government.*' Now you did 
not propose this, but you did suggest it. When 
you declare that you do not know whether or not 
the Government will take action about my book, 
and remark that the authors of books much less 
wicked have been proceeded against in law, the 
suggestion is quite obvious. In your complaint of 
misrepresentation you seem to me. Sir, to have 
been not quite candid. However, as far as I am 



no DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

concerned the suggestion is of no importance. 
What is of importance is that the editor of a paper 
Hke yours should appear to countenance the mon- 
strous theory that the Government of a country 
should exercise a censorship over imaginative lit- 
erature. This is a theory against which I, and all 
men of letters of my acquaintance, protest most 
strongly ; and any critic who admits the reasonable- 
ness of such a theory shows at once that he is 
quite incapable of understanding what literature is, 
and what are the rights that literature possesses. 
A Government might just as well try to teach 
painters how to paint, or sculptors how to model,^^ 
as attempt to interfere with the style, treatment, 
and subject-matter of the literary artist; and no 
writer, however eminent or obscure, should ever 
give his sanction to a theory that would degrade 
literature far more than any didactic or so-called 
immoral book could possibly do. 

You then express your surprise that'* so experi- 
enced a literary gentleman '' as myself should im- 
agine that your critic was animated by any feeling 
of personal malice towards him. The phrase " lit- 
erary gentleman'' is a vile phrase; but let that 
pass. I accept quite readily your assurance that 
your critic was simply criticizing a work of art in 
the best way he could; but I feel that I was fully 
justified in forming the opinion of him I did. He 



''DORIAN GRAY" AND ITS CRITICS III 

Opened his article by a gross personal attack on 
myself. This, I need hardly say, was an absolutely 
unpardonable error of critical taste. There is no 
excuse for it, except personal malice ; and you. Sir, 
should not have sanctioned it. A critic should be 
taught to criticize a work of art without making any 
reference to the personahty of the author. This, in 
fact, is the beginning of criticism. However, it was 
not merely his personal attack on me that made me 
imagine that he was actuated by malice. What 
really confirmed me in my first impression was his 
reiterated assertion that my book was tedious and 
dull. Now, if I were criticizing my book, which I 
have some thoughts of doing, I think I would con- 
sider it my duty to point out that it is far too 
crowded with sensational incident and far too par- 
adoxical in style, as far, at any rate, as the dialogue 
goes. I feel that from a standpoint of art these 
are the two great defects in the book. But tedious 
and dull the book is not. Your critic has cleared 
himself of the charge of personal mahce, his denial 
and yours being quite sufficient in the matter ; but 
he has only done so by a tacit admission that he 
has really no critical instinct about literature and 
literary work, which, in one who writes about lit- 
erature, is, I need hardly say, a much graver fault 
than malice of any kind. 

Finally, Sir, allow me to say this. Such an 



112 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

article as you have published really makes one de- 
spair of the possibility of any general culture in 
England. Were I a French author, and my book 
brought out in Paris, there is not a single literary 
critic in France, on any paper of high standing, who 
would think for a moment of criticizing it from an 
ethical standpoint. If he did so he would stultify 
himself, not merely in the eyes of all men of letters, 
but in the eyes of the majority of the public. You 
have yourself often spoken against Puritanism. 
Believe me, Sir, Puritanism is never so offensive 
and destructive as when it deals with art matters. 
It is there that its influence is radically wrong. It 
is this Puritanism, to which your critic has given 
expression, that is always marring the artistic 
instinct of the English. So far from encouraging it, 
you should set yourself against it, and should try to 
teach your critics to recognize the essential difference 
between art and life. The gentleman who criticized 
my book is in a perfectly hopeless confusion about 
it, and your attempt to help him out by proposing 
that the subject-matter of art should be limited does 
not help matters. It is proper that limitations 
should be placed on actions. It is not proper that 
limitations should be placed on art. To art belong 
all things that are, and all things that are not, and 
even the editor of a London paper has no right to 



''DORIAN GRAY" AND ITS CRITICS II 3 

restrain the freedom of art in the selection of subject- 
matter. 

I now trust, Sir, that these attacks on me and on 
m.y book will cease. There are forms of advertise- 
ment that are unwarranted and unwarrantable. — 
I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

16 TiTE St., S. W., June 27. 



IV 



16 



To THE Editor of the St. James Gazette. 

Sir: — In your issue of this evening you publish 
a letter from ''A London Editor," ^'^ which clearly 
insinuates in the last paragraph that I have in some 
way sanctioned the circulation of an expression of 
opinion, on the part of the proprietors of Lippincotfs 
Magazine^ of the literary and artistic value of my 
story of The Picture of Dorian Gray. 

Allow me, Sir, to state that there are no grounds 
for this insinuation. I was not aware that any such 
document was being circulated ; and I have written 
to the agents, Messrs. Ward & Lock — who cannot, 
I feel sure, be primarily responsible for its appear- 
ance — to ask them to withdraw it at once. No pub- 
lisher should ever express an opinion on the value 



114 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

of what he pubUshes. That is a matter entirely for 
the Hterary critic to decide. I must admit, as one 
to whom contemporary literature is constantly sub- 
mitted for criticism, that the only thing that ever 
prejudices me against a book is the lack of literary 
style; but I can quite understand how any ordi- 
nary critic would be strongly prejudiced against 
a work that was accompanied by a premature and 
unnecessary panegyric from the publisher. A pub- 
lisher is simply a useful middleman. It is not for 
him to anticipate the verdict of criticism. 

I may, however, while expressing my thanks to 
the ''London Editor'' for drawing my attention to 
this, I trust, purely American method of procedure, 
venture to differ from him in one of his criticisms. 
He states that he regards the expression *' complete '* 
as applied to a story, as a specimen of the '' ad- 
jectival exuberance of the puffer!'' Here, it seems 
to me, he sadly exaggerates. What m.y story is, 
is an interesting problem. What my story is not, 
is a '' novelette "^^ — a term which you have more 
than once applied to it. There is no such word in 
the English language as novelette. It should never 
be used. It is merely part of the slang of Fleet 
street. 

In another part of your paper, Sir, you state that 
I received your assurance of the lack of malice in 



"DORIAN GRAY" AND ITS CRITICS II5 

your critic '' somewhat grudgingly." This is not so. 
I frankly said that I accepted that assurance "quite 
readily/' and that your own denial and that of your 
critic were " sufficient/* Nothing more generous 
could have been said. What I did feel was that you 
saved your critic from the charge of malice by con- 
victing him of the unpardonable crime of lack of 
literary instinct. I still feel that. To call my book 
an ineffective attempt at allegory that, in the hands 
of Mr. Anstey, might have been made striking, is 
absurd. Mr. Anstey's sphere in literature, and my 
sphere are different — very widely different. 

You then gravely ask me what rights I imagine 
literature possesses. That is really an extraordinary 
question for the editor of a newspaper such as 
yours to ask. The rights of literature, Sir, are the 
rights of intellect. 

I remember once hearing M. Renan say that he 
would sooner live under a military despotism than 
under the despotism of the church, because the 
former merely limited the freedom of the body 
while the latter limited the freedom of mind.^^ You 
say that a work of art is a form of action. It is not. 
It is the highest mode of thought. 

In conclusion. Sir, let me ask you not to force on 
me this continued correspondence by daily attacks. 
It is a trouble and a nuisance. As you assailed 



Il6 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

me first, I have a right to the last word. Let that 
last word be the present letter, and leave my book, 
I beg you, to the immortahty it deserves. I am. 
Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

1 6 TiTE St., S. W., June 28. 



RUDYARD KIPLING AND THE 
ANGLO-INDIANS 



From the point of view of literature, Mr. Kipling is a genius 
who drops his aspirates. From the point of view of life, he is a 
reporter who knows vulgarity better than any one has ever known 
it. Dickens knew its clothes and its comedy. Mr. Kipling knows its 
essence and its seriousness. He is our first authority on the sec- 
ond-rate, and has seen marvellous things through key-holes, and his 
back-grounds are real works of art. 

— The Critic as Artist. Part II. 

No doubt, everything that is worthy of existence, is worthy also 
of art— at least, one would like to think so— but while echo or 
mirror can repeat for us a beautiful thing, to artistically render a 
thing that is ugly requires the most exquisite alchemy of form, the 
most subtle magic of transformation. 

—A Note on So?ne Modern Poets, 
The Woman's World, Decembery 1888, 



MR. KIPLING AND THE 
ANGLO-INDIANS^ 

September 25, 1891. 

To THE Editor of the Times. 

Sir : — The writer of a letter signed ''An Indian 
Civilian"^ that appears in your issue of to-day 
makes a statement about me which I beg you to 
allow me to correct at once. 

He says that I have described the Anglo-Indians 
as being vulgar. This is not the case. Indeed, I 
have never met a vulgar Anglo-Indian. There may 
be many, but those whom I have had the pleasure 
of meeting here have been chiefly scholars, men in- 
terested in art and thought, men of cultivation; 
nearly all of them have been exceedingly brilliant 
talkers; some of them have been exceedingly 
brilliant writers. 

What I did say — I believe in the pages of The 

Nineteenth Century — was that vulgarity is the dis-^ 

tinguishing note of those Anglo-Indians whom 

119 



I20 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Rudyard Kipling loves to write about, and writes 
about so cleverly. This is quite true and there is 
no reason why Mr. Rudyard Kipling should not 
select vulgarity as his subject-matter, or as part of 
it. For a realistic artist, certainly, vulgarity is a 
most admirable subject. How far Mr. Kipling's 
stories really mirror Anglo-Indian society I have 
no idea at all, nor indeed, am I ever much interested 
in any correspondence between art and nature. It 
seems to me a matter of entirely secondary im- 
portance. I do not wish, however, that it should 
be supposed that I was passing a harsh judgment 
on an important and in many ways distinguished 
class, when I was merely pointing out the charac- 
teristic qualities of some puppets in a prose play. 
I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde 



''A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES' 



All bad art comes from returning to Life and Nature, and elevat- 
ing them into ideals. Life and Nature may sometimes be used as 
part of Art's rough material, but before they are of any real service 
to art, they must be translated* into artistic conventions. The mo- 
ment Art surrenders its imaginative medium, it surrenders every- 
thing. — The Decay of Lying. 

The marvels of design stir the imagination. In the mere loveli- 
ness of the materials employed there are latent elements of culture. 
Nor is this all. By its deliberate rejection of Nature as the ideal of 
beauty, as well as of the imitative method of the ordinary painter, 
decorative art not merely prepares the soul for the reception of true 
imaginative work, but develops in it that sense of form which is the 
basis of creative no less than of critical achievement. 

— The Critic as Artist Part II, 

There is a danger of modern illustration becoming too pictorial. 
What we need is good book-ornament — decorative ornament that 
will go with type and printing, and give to each page a harmony and 
unity of effect. — Some Literary Notes, 

The Woman's World, January, i88g. 

It is one thing to talk of the principles of art and quite another to 
create a piece of artistic work. — Interview with Oscar Wilde. 

New York Worlds August 12, i88j. 



^^A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES"' 

To THE Editor of the Speake-r. 

Sir : — I have just, at a price that for any other 
EngHsh sixpenny paper I would have consid- 
ered exorbitant, purchased a copy of The Speaker 
at one of the charming kiosks that decorate Paris ; 
institutions, by the way, that I think we should at 
once introduce into London. The kiosk is a de- 
lightful object, and when illuminated at night from 
within, as lovely as a fantastic Chinese lantern, es- 
pecially when the transparent advertisements are 
from the clever pencil of M. Cheret. In London 
we have merely the ill-clad news-vendors, whose 
voice, in spite of the admirable efforts of the Royal 
College of Music to make England a really musi- 
cal nation, is always out of tune, and whose rags, 
badly designed and badly worn, merely emphasize 
a painful note of uncomely misery, without con- 
veying that impression of picturesqueness which is 
the only thing that makes the spectacle of the pov- 
erty of others at all bearable. 

123 



124 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

It IS not, however, about the establishment of 
kiosks in London that I wish to write you, though 
I am of the opinion that it is a thing that the 
County Council should at once take in hand. The 
object of my letter is to correct a statement made 
in a paragraph^ of your interesting paper. 

The writer of the paragraph in question, states 
that the decorative designs that make lovely my 
book A House of Pomegrajtates^ are by the hand of 
Mr. Shannon,^ while the delicate dreams that sep- 
arate and herald each story are by Mr. Ricketts.^ 
The contrary is the case. Mr. Shannon is the drawer 
of the dreams, and Mr. Ricketts is the subtle and 
fantastic decorator. Indeed, it is to Mr. Ricketts 
that the entire decorative scheme of the book is due, 
from the selection of the type and the placing 
of the ornamentation, to the completely beautiful 
cover that encloses the whole. The writer of the 
paragraph goes on to state that he does not '' like 
the cover.'' This is, no doubt, to be regretted, 
though it is not a matter of much importance, as 
there are only two people in the world whom it is 
absolutely necessary that the cover should please. 
One is Mr. Ricketts who designed it; the other 
is myself whose book it binds. We both admire it 
immensely ! The reason, however, that your critic 
gives for his failure to gain from the cover any im- 



''A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES'' 12$ 

pression of beauty, seems to me to show a lack of 
artistic instinct on his part, which I beg you will 
allow me to try to correct. 

He complains that a portion of the design on the 
left-hand side of the cover reminds him of an Indian 
club with a house-painter's brush on top of it, 
while a portion of the design on the right-hand side 
suggests to him the idea of '* a chimney-pot hat 
with a sponge in it." Now I do not for a moment 
dispute that these are the real impressions your 
critic received. It is the spectator, and the mind of 
the spectator, as I pointed out in the preface to Tke 
Picture of Dorian Gray^ that art really mirrors. 
What I want to indicate is this ; the artistic beauty 
of the cover of my book resides in the delicate 
tracing, arabesques, and massing of many coral-red 
lines on a ground of white ivory, the colour-effect 
culminating in certain high gilt notes, and being 
made still more pleasurable by the over-lapping 
band of moss-green cloth that holds the book to- 
gether. What the gilt notes suggest, what imitative 
parallel may be found to them in that chaos that 
is termed Nature, is a matter of no importance.^ 
They may suggest, as they do sometimes to me, 
peacocks and pomegranates and splashing fountains 
of gold water, or, as they do to your critic,"^ sponges 
and Indian clubs and chimney-pot hats. Such sug- 



126 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

gestions and evocations have nothing whatsoever to 
do with the aesthetic quaHty and value of design. 
A thing inNaturebecomes much loveHerif it reminds 
us of a thing of Art, but a thing of Art gains no 
real beauty through reminding us of a thing in 
Nature. The primary aesthetic impression of a v/ork 
of art borrows nothing from recognition or resem- 
blance. These belong to a later and less perfect 
stage of apprehension. Properly speaking, they are 
not part of a real aesthetic impression at all, and the 
constant preoccupation with subject-matter that 
characterizes nearly all our English art criticism is, 
what makes our art criticism, especially as regards 
literature, so sterile, so profitless, so much beside 
the mark, and of such curiously little account. 
I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

Boulevard des Capucines, Paris. 



THE RELATION OF THE ACTOR 
TO THE PLAY 



From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art 
of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft 
is the type. — The Preface to ^^The Picture of Dorian GrayJ*^ 

The objective form is the most subjective in matter. Man is least 
himself when he talks in hi-s own person. Give him a mask, and he 
will tell you the truth. — The Critic as Artiste Part II, 

As the inevitable result of this substitution of an imitative for a 
creative medium, this surrender of an imaginative form, we have the 
modern English melodrama. The characters in these plays talk on 
the stage exactly as they would off it ; . . . they present the gait, 
manner, costume, and accent of real people. . . . And yet how 
wearisome the plays are! They do not succeed in producing even 
that impression of reality at which they aim, and which is their only 
reason for existing. — The Decay of Lying* 



THE RELATION OF THE ACTOR 
TO THE PLAY^ 

To THE Editor of the Daily Telegraph. 

Sir: — I have just been sent an article that seems 
to have appeared in your paper some days ago, in 
which it is stated that, in the course of some remarks 
addressed to the Playgoers* Club on the occasion 
of my taking the chair at their last meeting, I laid 
down as an axiom that the stage is only ''a frame 
furnished with a set of puppets." 

Now it is quite true that I hold that the stage is 

to a play no more than a picture frame is to a 

painting; and that the actable value of a play has 

nothing whatsoever to do with its value as a work 

of art. In this century in England, to take an 

obvious example, we have had only two great 

plays — one is Shelley's Cenci, the other, Mr. 

Swinburne's Atalanta in Calydon, and neither of 

them is in any sense of the word an actable play. 

129 



I30 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Indeed, the mere suggestion that stage presen- 
tation is any test of a work of art is quite ridicu- 
lous. In the production of Browning's plays, for 
instance, in London and at Oxford, what was being 
tested was obviously the capacity of the modern 
stage to represent, in any adequate measure or 
degree, works of introspective method and strange 
or sterile psychology. But the artistic value of 
Strafford or hi a Balcony^ was settled when 
Robert Browning wrote their last lines. It is not, 
Sir, by the mimes that the Muses are to be 
judged.^ So far, the writer of the article in question 
is right. Where he goes wrong is in saying that I 
described this frame — the stage — as being furnished 
'' with a set of puppets.'' He admits that he speaks 
only by report; but he should have remembered, 
Sir, that report is not merely a lying jade, which I 
personally could readily forgive her, but a jade who 
lies without lovely inventions — a thing that I, at 
any rate can forgive her never. 

What I really said was that the frame we call the 
stage was '^ peopled with either living actors or mov- 
ing puppets," and I pointed out briefly, of neces- 
sity, that the personality of the actor is often a 
source of danger in the perfect presentation of a 
work of art. It may distort. It may lead astray. 
It may be a discord in the tone of symphony. For 



RELATION OF THE ACTOR TO THE PLAY I3I 

anybody can act. Most people in England do 
nothing else. To be conventional is to be. a come- 
dian. To act a particular part, however, is a very 
different thing and a very difficult thing as well. 
The actor's aim is, or should be, to convert his own 
accidental personality into the real and essential 
personality of the character he is called upon to 
impersonate, whatever that character may be; ^ or 
perhaps I should say that there are two schools of 
actors — the school of those who attain their effect by 
exaggeration of personality and the school of those 
who attain it by suppression. It would take too 
long to discuss these schools, or to decide which of 
them the dramatist loves best. Let me note the 
danger of personality, and pass on to my puppets. 
There are many advantages in puppets.* They 
never argue. They have no crude views about 
art. They have no private lives. We are never 
bothered by accounts of their virtues, or bored by 
recitals of their vices; and when they are out of 
an engagement they never do good in pubHc or 
save people from drowning ! Nor do they speak 
more than is set down for them ! They recognize 
the presiding intellect of the dramatist and have 
never been known to ask for their parts to be writ- 
ten up. They are admirably docile, and have no 
personalities at all. I saw lately, in Paris, a per- 



132 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

formance by certain puppets of Shakespeare's 
Tejnpesf in M. Maurice Boucher's translation. 
Miranda was the image of Miranda because an 
artist had so fashioned her; and Ariel was true 
Ariel, because so had she been made. Their gestures 
were quite sufficient, and the words that seemed to 
come from their little lips were spoken by poets 
who had beautiful voices. It was a delightful per- 
formance, and I remember it still with delight, 
though Miranda took no notice of the flowers I 
sent her after the curtain fell. For modern plays, 
however, perhaps we had better have living play- 
ers, for in modern plays actuality is everything. 
The charm — the ineffable charm of the unreal is 
here denied us, and rightly. 

Suffer me one more correction. Your writer 
describes the author of the brilliant fantastic lec- 
ture on The Modern Actor as '^a protege '^ of 
mine. Allow me to state that my acquaintance 
with Mr. John Gray ^ is, I regret to say, extremely 
recent, and that I sought it because he had already 
a perfected mode of expression both in prose and 
verse. All artists in this vulgar age need protection 
certainly. Perhaps they have always needed it. 
But the nineteenth century artist finds it not in 
Prince, or Pope, or patron, but in high indifference 
of temper; in the pleasure of the creation of beau- 



I 



RELATION OF THE ACTOR TO THE PLAY 1 33 

tiful things and the long contemplation of them : 
in disdain of what in life is common and ignoble ; 
and in such feHcitous sense of humour as enables 
one to see how vain and foolish is all popular 
opinion, and popular judgment, upon the wonder- 
ful things of art. These qualities Mr. John Gray- 
possesses in a marked degree. He needs no other 
protection, nor indeed would he accept it. 
I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

London, Feb. 19th. 



THE CENSURE AND "SALOME" 



The mere artistic process of acting, the translation of literature 
back again into life, and the presentation of thought under the 
conditions of action, is in itself a critical method of a very high 
order. — Literary and Other Notes, 

The Woman's World, January, 1888, 

An educated person's ideas of art are drawn naturally from what 
art has been, whereas the new work of art is beautiful by being what 
art has never been ; and to measure it by the standard of the past 
is to measure it by a standard on the rejection of which its real 
perfection depends. A temperament capable of receiving, through 
an imaginative medium, and under imaginative conditions, new and 
beautiful impressions, is the only temperament that can appreciate a 
work of art. 

No spectator of art needs a more perfect mood of receptivity than 
the spectator of a play. —The Soul of Man Under Socialism. 

To disagree with three-fourths of England on all points is one of 
the first elements of sanity, which is a deep source of consolation 
in all moments of spiritual doubt. 

— Lecture on the English Renaissance, 

England is the home of lost ideas. — The Decay of Lying. 



b 



THE CENSURE AND "SALOM^"^ 

AN INTERVIEW WITH OSCAR WILDE 

The Lord Chamberlain has declined to authorize 
the representation of Mr. Oscar Wilde's French play 
Salome,^ so the premiere will probably be given in 
Paris instead of London. I should show (writes the 
i7tterviewer) but small appreciation of Mr. Wilde's 
courtesy were I to describe the piece ^ or do more than 
refer incidentally to a conversation that would have 
appeared in this column on the eve of the first per ^ 
formance had Salome been licensed for representa- 
tion. I may, however, be permitted to say that judg- 
ing from what I saw at rehearsal, art has suffered 
by the Lord Cha7nber Iain's action; for with such 
interpreters as Madam^e Sarah Bernhardt and M. 
Albert Darmont there was no danger that the 
author's dignified treatment of the Biblical story 
would be degraded. I have had the advantage of 
reading a great many forbidden plays, for in Paris 

137 



138 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

the Censure is applied more frequently than in Lon- 
don, and I have no hesitation in saying that i7i nine 
cases out of ten the prohibitive ineasure is a mistaken 
policy. It is not pretended that there is any religious 
or moral gain to compensate for the wrong do7te to 
art. Diametrically opposed standards seem to be set 
tip by the Censure in passing judgment on religious 
or social dramas. If Justice does not stiff er every 
time some monstrous injustice is handled by the play- 
wright, why should Religion suffer when the acts of 
its oppressors are made the subject of artistic treat- 
me7tt by the dramatic author? The public can be 
trusted to save Religion from insult. 

This is of course the expression of m.y own opi7tion. 
It was with these thoughts runni7ig i7i i7ty 7nind that 
I called on Mr. Oscar Wilde yesterday to beg him to 
modify an earlier i7iterview he had give7i me in such 
particulars as might be i7nportant i7i view of the 
Lord Cha7nberlai7t's decisio7i. 

*' Personally/' said Mr. Wilde, *'to have my pre- 
miere in Paris instead of in London is a great 
honour, and one that I appreciate sincerely. The 
pleasure and pride that I have experienced in the 
whole affair has been that Madame Sarah Bernhardt 
who is undoubtedly the greatest artist on any stage, 
should have been charmed and fascinated by my 
play and should have wished to act it." 



THE CENSURE AND '^SALOM^" I39 

/ could not help feeling that Mr, Wilde's pride was 
justified. It is the fashion of to-day to write single- 
role pieces for Madame Bernhardt. The talents of 
several authors have been almost exclusively devoted 
to the task of fitting the talents of the artist, 
Salome is not a ofie-role drama; it was not 
written for Madame Bernhardt; indeed^ it had 
been in ma^tuscript nearly six months before it was 
submitted to her. 

*' Every rehearsal/' continued Mr, WildCy '' has 
been a source of intense pleasure to me. To hear 
my own words spoken by the most beautiful voice 
in the world has been the greatest artistic joy that 
it is possible to experience.^ So that you see, as far 
as I am concerned, I care very little about the refusal 
of the Lord Chamberlain's to allow my play to be 
produced. What I do care about is this — that the 
Censorship apparently regards the stage as the 
lowest of all the arts, and looks on acting as a 
vulgar thing. The painter is allowed to take his 
subjects where he chooses. He can go to the great 
Hebrew, and Hebrew-Greek literature of the Bible 
and can paint Salome dancing, or Christ on the 
cross, or the Virgin with her child. Nobody inter- 
feres with the painter. Nobody says, * Painting is 
such a vulgar art that you must not paint sacred 
things.* The sculptor is equally free. He can 



I40 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

carve St. John the Baptist in his camel hair, and 
fashion the Madonna or Christ in bronze or in 
marble as he wills. Yet nobody says to him, 
* Sculpture is such a vulgar art that you must not 
carve sacred things.' And the writer, the poet — 
he also is quite free. I can write about any subject 
I choose. For me there is no Censorship. I can 
take any incident I like out of sacred literature and 
treat It as I choose and there is no one to say to the 
poet, ' Poetry is such a vulgar art that you must 
not use it in treating sacred subjects.' But there is 
a Censorship over the stage and acting, and the 
basis of that Censorship is that, while vulgar sub- 
jects may be put on the stage and acted, while 
everything that is mean and low and shameful in 
life can be portrayed by actors, no actor is to be 
permitted to present under artistic conditions, the 
great and ennobling subjects taken from the Bible. 
The insult in the suppression of Salome^ is an 
insult to the stage as a form of art and not to me.'* 

''I understand that Madame Bernhardf s engage- 
ments will not allow her to play Salome at a7i in- 
vitation performance. We shall not see your play in 
London y then? '' 

*' I shall pubHsh Salome, No one has the right 
to interfere with me, and no one shall interfere with 
me. The people who are injured are the actors ; the 



THE CENSURE AND '^SALOMfi" 14! 

art that is vilified is the art of acting. I hold that 
this is as fine as any other art and to refuse it the 
right to treat great and noble subjects is an insult to 
the stage. The action of the Censorship in England 
is odious and ridiculous. What can be said of a 
body that forbids Massenet's Herodiade,^ Gounod's 
La Reine de Saba^ Rubinstein's Judas Maccabceus^ 
and allows Divorfons "^ to be placed on any stage ? 
The artistic treatment of moral and elevating sub- 
jects is discouraged, while a free course is given to 
the representation of disgusting and revolting 
subjects." 

''How came you to write Salome in French?^' 
''My idea of writing the play was simply this: 
I have one instrument that I know that I can com- 
mand, and that is the English language. There 
was another instrument to which I had listened all 
my life, and I wanted once to touch this new 
instrument to see whether I could make any beau- 
tiful thing out of it. The play was written in Paris 
some six months ago, where I read it to some 
young poets, who admired it immensely. Of course 
there are modes of expression that a Frenchman of 
letters would not have used, but they give a certain 
relief or colour to the play.^ A great deal of the 
curious effect that Maeterlinck prodjices comes from 
the fact that he, a Flamand by grace, writes in an 



142 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

alien language. The same thing is true of Rossetti, 
who, though he wrote in EngHsh, was essentially- 
Latin in temperament." 

During this part of our intervieiv the correspon- 
dent of The Gaulois was present. The conver- 
sation was consequently carried on in French^ and 
iny colleague remarked on the admirable way that 
Mr, Wilde spoke that language. This elicited 
from him a splendid tribute to Paris ^ *^the center of 
arty the artistic capital of the worlds 

'' If the Censure refuses Salome,'' said Mr, Wilde, 
for at the time of m.y first interview the decision of 
the Lord Chamberlain had not been announced, ** I 
shall leave England and settle in France, where I 
will take out letters of naturalization.^ I will not 
consent to call myself a citizen of a country that 
shows such narrowness in its artistic judgment." 

My colleague of TThe Gaulois made a movement 
of surprise. 

''I am not English; I 'm Irish — which is quite 
another thing.*' 

To continue with Salome — ''A few weeks 
ago,'* said Mr. Wilde, '^ I met Madame Sarah Bern- 
hardt at Sir Henry Irving's. She had heard of my 
play and asked me to read it to her.-^^ I did so, and 
she at once expressed a wish to play the title-role. 
Of course it has been a great disappointment to 



THE CENSURE AND ''SALOUf I43 

her and to her company not to have played this 
piece in London. We have been rehearsing for 
three weeks. The costumes, scenery, and every- 
thing has been prepared, and we are naturally disap- 
pointed ; still all are looking forward now to produ- 
cing it for the first time in Paris, where the actor is 
appreciated and the stage is regarded as an artistic 
medium. It is remarkable how little art there is in 
the work of dramatic critics in England. You 
find column after column of description, but the 
critics rarely know how to praise an artistic 
work. The fact is, it requires an artist to praise 
art ; any one can pick it to pieces. For my own 
part, I don't know which I despise most, blame or 
praise. The latter, I think, for it generally happens 
that the qualities praised are those one regards 
with the least satisfaction oneself." 

Jus^ as I was taki7ig leave of Mr, Oscar Wilde^ 
the conversation went back to the question of prohi- 
bition, 

*' What makes the Lord Chamberlain's action to 
me most contemptible, and the only point in which 
I feel at all aggrieved in the matter, is that he al- 
lows the personahty of an artist to be presented in 
a caricature on the stage,^^ and will not allow the 
work of that artist to be shown under very rare 
and very beautiful conditions.'' ^^ 



PARIS, THE ABODE OF ARTISTS 



In France they limit the journalist, and allow the artist almost 
perfect freedom. Here we allow absolute freedom to the journalist, 
and entirely lirxiit the artist. English public opinion, that is to say, 
tries to constrain and impede and warp the man who makes things 
that are beautiful in effect, and compels the journalist to retail things 
that are ugly or disgusting or revolting in fact. 

— The Soul of Ma7i Under Socialism. 

Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always 
from the noblest motive. — The Picture of Dorian Gray. 

England has done one thing; it has invented and established 
Public Opinion, which is an attempt to organize the ignorance of 
the community and to elevate it to the dignity of physical force. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part II, 

The only thing that ever consoles man for the stupid things he 
does is the praise he always gives himself for doing them. 

— A Chinese Sage, 



PARIS, THE ABODE OF ARTISTS^ 

June, 1892. 
To Monsieur X of the Gaulois. 

Sir : — My resolution is deliberately taken. Since 
it is impossible to have a work of art performed in 
England, I shall transfer myself to another father- 
land, of which I have long ago been enamoured. 
There is but one Paris, voyez-vous, and Paris is 
France. 

It is the abode of artists ; nay, it is la ville artiste. 
I adore Paris. ^ I also adore your language. To 
me there are only two languages in the world, 
French and Greek. Here [in London] people are 
essentially anti-artistic and narrow-minded. Now 
the ostracism of Salome will give you a fair notion 
of what people here consider venal and indecorous. 

To put on the stage any person or persons con- 
nected with the Bible is impossible. On these 
grounds the Censorship has prohibited Saint-Saens' 
Samson et Dalila^ and Massenet's Herodiade} Ra- 

147 



148 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

cine's superb tragedy of Athalie^ cannot be per- 
formed on an English stage. Really, one hardly 
knows whether the measure is the more hateful or 
ridiculous. 

Of course, I do not deny that Englishmen pos- 
sess certain practical qualities, but, as I am an 
artist, these qualities are not those which I can ad- 
mire. Moreover, I am not at present an English- 
man. I am an Irishman,^ which is by no means the 
same thing. 

No doubt, I have Enghsh friends, to whom I am 
deeply attached, but as to the English, I do not 
love them. There is a great deal of hypocrisy in 
England, which you in France, very justly find 
fault with. 

The typical Briton is Tartuffe, seated in his shop 
behind the counter. There are numerous excep- 
tions, but they only prove the rule. 

Oscar Wilde. 



SARAH BERNHARDT AND 
" SALOMfi " 



TO SARAH BERNHARDT i 

How vain and dull this common world must seem 
To such a One as thou, who should'st have talked 
At Florence with Mirandola, or walked 

Through the cool olives of the Academe : 

Thou should'st have gathered reeds from a green stream 
For Goat-foot Pan's shrill piping, and have played 
With the white girls in that Phasacian glade 

Where grave Odysseus wakened from his dream. 

Ah ! surely once some urn of Attic clay 

Held thy wan dust, and thou hast come again 
Back to this common world so dull and vain, 

For thou wert weary of the sunless day. 
The heavy fields of scentless asphodel, 

The loveless lips with which men kiss in Hell. 



I SARAH BERNHARDT AND 

" SALOME " 2 

March, 1893. 
To THE Editor of the Times. 

Sir: — My attention has been drawn to a re- 
view^ of Salome^ which was pubHshed in your 
columns last week. The opinions of English critics 
on a French work of mine have, of course, little, 
if any interest for me. I write simply to ask you 
to allow me to correct a misstatement that appears 
in the review in question. 

The fact that the greatest tragic actress of any 
stage now living saw in my play such beauty that 
she was anxious to produce it, to take herself the 
part of the heroine, to lend to the entire poem the 
glamour of her personaHty, and to my prose the 
music of her flute-like voice — this was naturally 
and always will be a source of pride and pleasure 
to me, and I look forward with delight to seeing 
Mme Bernhardt present my play in Paris, that 

151 



152 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

vivid centre of art, where religious dramas are 
often performed. But my play was in no sense of 
the word written /^r this great actress.^ I have never 
written a play for any actor or actress, nor shall I 
ever do so. Such work is for the artisan in litera- 
ture, not for the artist. 
I remain, Sir, 

Your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 



THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM 



¥ 



Gilbert— As for modern journalism, it is not my business to 
defend it. It justifies its own existence by the great Darwinian 
principle of the survival of the vulgarest. I have merely to do with 
literature. 

Ernest. — 'EmI what is the difference between literature and 
journalism? 

Gilbert— Oh.\ journalism is unreadable and literature is not read« 

— The Critic as Artist, Part I. 

The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything except 
what is worth knowing. Journalism, conscious of this, and having 
tradesman-like habits, supplies their demands. In centuries before 
ours the public nailed the ears of journalists to the pump. That 
was quite hideous. In this century journalists have nailed their 
own ears to the keyhole. That is much worse. 

— The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. To be natural is to 
be obvious, and to be obvious is to be inartistic. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part II. 



THE SHAMROCK 

The spreading rose is fair to view, 
And rich the modest violet's hue, 
Or queenly tulip filled with dew, 
And sweet the lily's fragrance ; 
But there 's a flower more dear to me, 
That grows not on a branch or tree. 
But in the grass plays merrily 
And of its leaves there are but three, 
T 'is Ireland's native Shamrock. 

My country's flower, I love it well. 
For every leaf a tale can tell, 
And teach the minstrel's heart to swell 
In praise of Ireland's Shamrock: 
The emblem^ of our faith divine. 
Which blest St. Patrick made to shine. 
To teach eternal truth sublime. 
And which shall last as long as time, 
And long as blooms the Shamrock. 

Oh ! twine a wreath of Shamrock leaves ! 
They decked the banner of our Chiefs 
And calmed the Irish Exile's griefs. 
Our country's cherished Shamrock; 
The Muse inspired with words of praise 
The poets of our early days. 
To write in many a glowing phrase, 
And sing in powerful^ thrilling lays 
The virtues of the Shamrock. 



He who has left his island home 

Beneath a foreign sky to roam, 
And in a foreign clime unknown, 
How dear he loves the Shamrock. 
When on the feast of Patrick's Day 
He kneels within the church to pray 
For holy Ireland far away. 
He feels again youth's genial ray, 
While gazing on the Shamrock. 

The brightest gem of the rarest flowers, 

That ever bloomed in Eastern bowers 

Possesses for him not half the powers 

That dwell within the Shamrock ; 

Sweet memories, like refreshing dew, 

The past with all its charm renew ; 

The church, the spot where wild flowers grew, 

The faithful friends, the cherished few 

He left to cull the Shamrock. 

Land of the West, my native isle, 
May heaven's love upon you smile, 
And banish foes that may beguile 
The lovers of the Shamrock ; 
May God for ever cherish thee 
In peace and love and harmony, 
And rank thee proud mid nations free. 
Thus pray thy children fervently 
For Ireland and the Shamrock. 

(Signed) OsCAR WiLDE. 



I 



THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM^ 



To THE Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. 

Sir :— Will you allow me to draw your attention 
to a very interesting example of the ethics of mod- 
ern journalism, a quality of which we have all heard 
so much and seen so little? 

About a month ago Mr. T. P. O'Connor pub- 
lished in T/ie Sunday Sun some doggerel verses 
entitled The Shamrock^ and had the amusing 
impertinence to append my name to them as their 
author. As for some years past all kinds of scur- 
rilous personal attacks had been made on me in Mr. 
O'Connor's newspapers, I determined to take no 
notice at all of the incident. 

Enraged, however, by my courteous silence, Mr. 
O'Connor returns to the charge this week. He 
now solemnly accuses me of plagiarizing^ the poem 
he had the vulgarity to attribute to me. 

157 



158 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

This seems to me to pass beyond even those 
bounds of coarse humour and coarser malice that 
are, by the contempt of all, conceded to the ordi- 
nary journalist, and it is really distressing to find 
so low a standard of ethics in a Sunday newspaper. 
I remain. Sir, 

Your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

To THE Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. 

Sir : — The assistant editor of The Weekly Sun^ 
on whom seems to devolve the arduous duty of 
writing Mr. T. P. O'Connor's apologies for him,^ 
does not, I observe with regret, place that gentle- 
man's conduct in any more attractive or more hon- 
ourable light by the attempted explanation that 
appears in the letter published in your issue of 
to-day. For the future it would be much better if 
Mr. O'Connor could always write his own apolo- 
gies. That he can do so exceedingly well, no one 
is more ready to admit than myself. I happen to 
possess one from him. 

The assistant editor's explanation, stripped of its 
unnecessary verbiage, amounts to this: it is now 
stated that some months ago, somebody, whose 



THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM 1 59 

name, observe, is not given, forwarded to the office 
of The Weekly Sun a manuscript in his own hand- 
writing, containing some fifth-rate verses with my 
name appended to them as their author. The as- 
sistant editor frankly admits that they had grave 
doubts about my being capable of such an astound- 
ing production. To me, I must candidly say, it 
seems more probable that they never for a single 
moment believed that the verses were from 
my pen. Literary instinct is, of course, a rare 
thing, and it would be too much to expect any true 
literary instinct to be found among the members 
of the staff of an ordinary newspaper ; but had Mr. 
O'Connor really thought that the production, such 
as it is, was mine, he would naturally have asked 
my permission before pubHshing it. Great license 
of comment and attack of every kind is allowed 
nowadays to newspapers, but no respectable editor 
would dream of printing and publishing a man's 
work without first obtaining his consent. 

Mr. O'Connor's conduct in accusing me of 
plagiarism when it was proved to him on unimpeach- 
able authority that the verses he had vulgarly 
attributed to me were not by me at all, I have 
already commented on. It is perhaps left to the 
laughter of the gods and the sorrow of men. I 
would like, however, to poi-nt out that when Mr. 



l6o DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

O'Connor, with the kind help of his assistant editor, 
states, as a possible excuse for his original sin that 
he and the members of his staff ''took refuge" in 
the belief that the verses in question might conceiv- 
ably be some very early and youthful work of 
mine, he and the members of his staff showed a 
lamentable ignorance of the nature of the artistic 
temperament. Only mediocrities progress. An 
artist revolves in a cycle of masterpieces, the first of 
which is no less perfect than the last.^ 

In conclusion, allow me to thank you for your 
courtesy in opening to me the columns of your 
valuable paper, and also to express the hope that 
the painful expose of Mr. O'Connor's conduct that I 
have been forced to make, will have the good result 
of improving the standard of journalistic ethics in 
England. I am, Sir, 

Your obedient servant, 

Oscar Wilde. 

Sept. 22, 1894. 



DRAMATIC CRITICS AND 
"AN IDEAL HUSBAND" 



The work of art is to dominate the spectator ; the spectator is 
not to dominate the work of art. 

— The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

The tears that we shed at a play are a type of the exquisite ster- 
ile emotions that it is the function of Art to awaken. We weep, 
but we are not wounded. We grieve, but our grief is not bitter. 

— The Critic as Artist, Part II, 

The spectator is not the arbiter of the work of art. He is one 
who is admitted to contemplate the work of art, and, if the work 
be fine, to forget in its contemplation all the egotism that mars him 
— the egotism of his ignorance, or the egotism of his information. 

— The Soul of Man Under Socialism, 

The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new 
material his impression of beautiful things. 

— The Preface to ** The Picture of Dorian Gray,'*'* 



DRAMATIC CRITICS AND 
^^AN IDEAL HUSBAND"' 

AN INTERVIEW WITH OSCAR WILDE 

On the morning following the production of An 
Ideal Husband,^ / met Oscar Wilde as he came 
down the steps of a club at the top of St. James* 
Street and I took advantage of the occasion to ask 
him what he thought of the attitude of the critics 
towards his play .^ 

"Well/' he replied y as he walked slowly down the 
street y " for a man to be a dramatic critic is as 
foolish and as inartistic as it would be for a man to 
be a critic of epics or a pastoral critic, or a critic 
of lyrics. All modes of art are one, and the modes 
of the art that employs words as its medium are 
quite indivisible. The result of the vulgar special- 
ization of criticism is an elaborate scientific knowl- 
edge of the stage — almost as elaborate as that of 
the stage-carpenter and quite on a par with that of 

163 



1 64 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

the call-boy — combined with an entire incapacity 
to realize that a play is a work of art, or to receive 
any artistic impressions at all.'* 

''You are rather severe up07i dramatic criticism^ 
Mr, Wilder 

'' English dramatic criticism of our own day has 
never had a single success, in spite of the fact that 
it goes to all the first nights.'' 

*' Buty'' I suggested ** it is influential^ 

*' Certainly, that is why it is so bad.'' 

" / don't think I quite " 

'' The moment criticism exercises any influence, 
it ceases to be criticism. The aim of the true critic 
is to try and chronicle his own moods, not to try 
and correct the masterpieces of others." 

''Real critics would be charming in your eyeSy 
then r 

" Real critics ? Ah ! how perfectly charming 
they would be. I am always waiting for their 
arrival. An inaudible school would be nice. Why 
do you not found it?" 

/ was mo7nentarily dazed at the broad vista that 
had been opened for me^ but I retained my presence 
of mind, and asked: 

"Are there absolutely no real critics in Londo7i ? " 

*' There are just two." 

'* Who are they f I asked eagerly. 



CRITICS AND ''AN IDEAL HUSBAND" 165 

Mr, Wilde, with the elaborate courtesy for which 
he has always been fajnous , replied, '* I think I had 
better not mention their names ; it might make the 
others so jealous/' 

*' What do the literary cliques think of your 
plays ? " 

*' I don't write to please cliques ; I write to please 
myself. Besides I have always had grave suspicions 
that the basis of all literary cliques is a morbid love 
of meat-teas. That makes them sadly uncivilized.** 

*' Still, if your critics offend you, why don't yoic 
reply to them ? *' 

" I have far too much time. But I think some 
day I will give a general answer in the form of a 
lecture in a public hall which I shall call Straight 
Talks to Old Menr 

" What is your feeling towards your audiences — 
towards the public ? '' 

''Which public? There are as many publics as 
there are personalities.*' 

^^ Are you nervous on the night that you are pro- 
ducing a new play f 

" Oh, no ; I am exquisitely indifferent. My ner- 
vousness ends at the last dress rehearsal ; I know 
then what effect my play, as presented upon the 
stage, has produced upon me. My interest in the 
play ends there, and I feel curiously envious of the 



1 66 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

public — they have such wonderfully fresh emotions 
in store for them." 

/ laughedy but Mr. Wilde rebuked me with a look 
of surprise. 

" It is the public, not the play, that I desire to 
make a success/' 

*^ Buty r in afraid I don't quite tmderstand'' — 

** The public makes a success when it realizes 
that a play is a work of art. On the three first 
nights ^ I have had in London, the public has been 
most successful, and, had the dimensions of the stage 
admitted of it, I would have called them before the 
curtain. Most managers, I believe, call them be- 
hind." 

** / imagine then, that you don't hold with the 
opinion that the public is the patroii of the dramatist? " 

*'The artist is always the munificent patron of 
the public. I am very fond of the public, and, 
personally, I always patronize the public very 
much." 

** What are your views upoii the much-vexed ques- 
tion of subject-matter in art ? " 

" Everything matters in art except the subject." 

When I recovered, I said, '' Several plays have 
been writteii lately that deal with the monstrous in- 
justice of the social code of morality at the present 
time'' 



CRITICS AND ''AN IDEAL HUSBAND" 167 

*' Oh/' answered Mr, Wilde, with an air of 
earnest conviction, " it is indeed a burning shame 
that there should be one law for men and another 
law for women, I think " — he hesitated, and a smile 
as swift as Sterne's ^^ hectic of a moment'' flitted 
across his face — '' I think that there should be no 
law for anybody/' 

" In writing, do you think that real life or real 
people should ever give one inspiration ? " 

" The colour of a flower may suggest to one the 
plot of a tragedy ; a passage in music may give 
one the sestet of a sonnet ; but whatever actually 
occurs gives the artist no suggestion. 

''Every romance that one has in one's life is a 
romance lost to one's art. To introduce real people 
into a novel or a play is a sign of an unimaginative 
mind,* a coarse, untutored observation and an entire 
absence of style." 

" / am afraid I can't agree with you, Mr, Wilde; 
I frequently see types and people who suggest ideas 
to me," 

" Everything is of use to the artist except an 
idea." 

After that I was silent, until Mr, Wilde pointed 
to the bottom of the street and drew my attention to 
the ^^ apricot-coloured palace" which we were ap- 
proaching. So I continued my questioning. 



1 68 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

^^The enemy has said that your plays lack ac- 
tiony 

'' Yes, English critics always confuse the action of 
a play with the incidents of a melodrama. I wrote 
the first act of A Woman of No Importarice^, in 
answer to the critics who said that Lady Winder- 
mere's Fan^ lacked action. In the act in question, 
there was absolutely no action at all. It was a 
perfect act.'* 

" What do you think is the chief point that critics 
have missed in your new play f'^ 

''Its entire psychology — the difference in the 
way in which a man loves a woman from that in 
which a woman loves a man ; the passion that women 
have for making ideals (which is their weakness) 
and the weakness of a man who dares not show his 
imperfections to the thing he loves. The end of 
Act I, and the end of Act II, and the scene in the 
last act, when Lord Goring points out the higher 
importance of a man's life over a woman's — to take 
three prominent instances — seem to have been 
missed by most of the critics. They failed to see 
their meaning ; they really thought it was a play 
about a bracelet. We must educate our critics — 
we must really educate th^vn,'" said Mr, Wilde half 
to himself 

*' The critics subordinate the psychological in- 



CRITICS AND ''AN IDEAL HUSBAND'* 169 

terest of a play to its mere technique. As soon as 
a dramatist invents an ingenious situation, they 
compare him with Sardou,^ but Sardou is an artist 
not because of his marvellous instinct of stagecraft, 
but in spite of it. In the third act of La Tosca, the 
scene of torture, he moved us by a terrible human 
tragedy, not by his knowledge of stage methods. 
Sardou is not understood in England because he is 
only known through a rather ordinary travesty of 
his play Dora, which was brought out here under 
the title of Diplomacy, I have been considerably 
amused by so many of the critics suggesting that 
the incident of the diamond bracelet in Act III of 
my new play was suggested by Sardou. It does 
not occur in any of Sardou's plays, and it was not 
in my play until less than ten days before produc- 
tion. Nobody else's work gives me any suggestion. 
It is only by entire isolation from everything that 
one can do any work. Idleness gives one the mood 
in which to write, isolation the conditions. Con- 
centration on one's self recalls the new and wonder- 
ful world that one presents in the colour and cadence 
of words in movement." 

" And yet we want something more than literature 
in a play,'' said L 

" That is merely because the critics have always 
propounded the degrading dogma that the duty of 



1 70 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

the dramatist is to please the public. Rossetti did 
not weave words into sonnets to please the 
pubHc, and Corot did not paint silver and grey- 
twilights to please the public. The mere fact of 
telling an artist to adopt any particular form of art 
in order to please the public, makes him shun it. 
We shall never have a real drama in England until 
it is recognized that a play is as personal and 
individual a form of self-expression as a poem or a 
picture." 

"/*w afraid you don't like journalists f I re- 
marked nervously. 

'*The journaHst is always reminding the public 
of the existence of the artist. That is unnecessary 
of him. He is always reminding the artist of the 
existence of the public. That is indecent of 
him." 

'^But we must have journalists, Mr, Wilde'' 

*' Why ? They only record what happens. What 
does it matter what happens ? It is only the abiding 
things that are interesting, not the horrid incidents 
of every-day life. Creation for the joy of crea- 
tion, is the aim of the artist, and that is why the 
artist is a more divine type than the saint. The 
artist arrives at his moment with his own mood. 
He may come with terrible purple tragedies;^ he 
may come with dainty rose-coloured comedies — 



CRITICS AND ''AN IDEAL HUSBAND" 171 

what a charming title! '' added Mr, Wilde with 
a smile — '' I must write a play and call it A Rose- 
Coloured Comedy'^ 

'* What are the exact relations between literature 
and the drama ? " 

''Exquisitely accidental. That is why I think 
them so necessary.*' 

'^ And the exact relations between the actor and the 
dramatist ? '' 

Mr. Wilde looked at me with a serious expression 
which changed almost immediately into a smile^ as 
he replied, " Usually a little strained." 

" But surely you regard the actor as a creative 
artist ? " 

"Yes/' replied Mr, Wilde with a touch of pathos 
in his voice y "terribly creative — terribly creative!" 

" Do you consider that the future outlook of the 
English stage is hopeful ? " 

" I think it must be. The critics have ceased to 
prophesy. That is something. It is in silence that 
the artist arrives. What is waited for never suc- 
ceeds; what is heralded is hopeless." 

We were nearing the sentries at Marlborough 
House, and I said : " Won't you tell me a little 
more, please ? Let us walk down Pall Mall — ex- 
ercise is such a good thing,'' 

"Exercise!*' he ejaculated with an emphasis 



172 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

which almost warrants italics. *' The only possible 
form of exercise is to talk, not walk/' 

And as he spoke ^ he motioned to a passing han- 
som. We shook handSy and Mr. Wilde ^ giving me 
a glance of approval^ said : '' I am sure that you 
must have a great future in literature before you." 

'' What makes you think so ? " / asked^ as I 
flushed with pleasure at the prediction. 

''Because you seem to be such a very bad inter- 
viewer. I feel sure that you must write poetry. I 
certainly like the colour of your necktie very much. 
Good-bye." 



i 



I" NOTES 



f. 

I 



Where there is no exaggeration there is no love, and where there 
is no love there is no understanding. It is only about things that 
do not interest one, that one can give a really unbiased opinion ; and 
this is no doubt the reason why an unbiased opinion is always abso- 
lutely valueless. —-Mr, Pater's Last Volume. i8go. 



NOTES 



NOTES FOR THE INTRODUCTION 

Page X 

(1) Cf. **I amused myself with being 2^ flaneur, a dandy, a man 
of fashion," — De Frofundis. 

(2) Letter to James McNeill Whistler. The World, February 25, 
1885; later in The Gentle Art of Making Enemies. 1890. (Page 163 
of the 1904 edition) See Mr. Whistler's " Ten O' Clock,'' Note 12, 
II, p. 199. 

Page xi 

(3) The T^'uth of Masks is the last essay oi Intentions, though 
the first issued in its original separate form, under the title of 
Shakespeare and Stage Costm?ie. The Nineteenth Century, No. 
XCIX, May, 1885, Vol. XVII. 

(4) This theory is propounded at some length in a brilliant study 
entitled An Artist iri Attitudes : Oscar Wilde, appearing in Studies 
in Prose and Verse by Arthur Symons : 1904. This study has also 
been translated into German by Franz Blei, and is included in his In 
Memoriam. O. W. Second Edition, 1905. 

(5) Cf. ** There are always new attitudes for the mind, and new 
points of view." — The Critic as Artist. Part II, 

(6) The Decay of lying, the first essay of Intentions, published 
first in The Nineteenth Century, No. CXLIII, January, 1889. Vol. 
XXV; later, in The Eclectic Magazine, February, 1889. It was 
considerably extended at the time of its later appearance. 

Page xii 
(^) The Critic as Artist. Part II, the fourth essay of Intentions, 
originally issued under the title of The True Function and Value of 
Criticism, Concluded. The Nineteenth Century, No. CLXIII, 

175 



176 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

September, 1890, Vol. XXVIII; also, in Mr, Pater's Last Volume, 

The Speaker, March 22, 1890, Vol. I. 

(8) The Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray, first published 

in The Fortnightly Review, No. CCXCI, N. S., March, 1891, Vol. 

LV, N, S. 

Page xiii 

(^) I. Richard Le Gallienne, in The Academy, July 4, 1 891. 
II. Agnes Repplier in Essays in Miniature. Charles L. Web- 
ster & Co., (1892) ; Houghton, Mifflin & Co. (Current Edition). 

III. G. R. Carpenter in Three Critics : Mr. Howells, Mr, Moore 
and Mr. Wilde. The Andover Revie^u, December, 189 1. 

IV. Unsigned review in The Speaker, July 4, 1891, Vol. IV. 

Page xiv 

(10) The first conspicuous reference made in Punchy occurred on 
February 14, 1880, Vol. 78. It is entitled Nincompoopiana. The 
Mutual Admiration Society. About seven cartoons of this series 
were printed, with the illustrations by George Du Maurier and the 
captions of F. C. Burnand. They celebrated the ** aesthetic" affec- 
tations of Maudle, Jellaby Postlethwaite and Mrs. Cimabue Brown. 
Later on in 1881 and 1882, the references to Wilde became more 
direct, as in Oscar Interviewed, January 14, 1882, Vol. 82, purport- 
ing to be an account of his arrival in the port of New York. In 
addition to the pictorial satire, there were frequent parodies of his 
poems — which poems were attacked with great bitterness. 

Page XV 

(11) Oscar Wilde arrived in New York harbour on the Arizona of 
the Cunard Line on January 2, 1882. For a characteristic account 
of this event, read Ten Minutes with a Poet. The New York 
Times, Tuesday, January 3, 1882, page 5, cl. 6. 

(12) Gilbert and Sullivan's -Pd!//>;z<:^y or, Bunthorne'^s Bride. An 
Entirely New and Original ^Esthetic Opera, was first produced at 
the Opera Comique, London, on Saturday, April 23, 188 1. In 
America, it was first presented under the management of R. D'Oyly 
Carte at the Standard Theatre, New York, September 22, 188 1. 
Reginald Bunthorne, a Fleshly Poet, the ** Ultra-poetical, super- 
aesthetical" young man with his knee-breeches and sun-flowers, was 



NOTES 177 

generally accepted as a burlesque of Oscar Wilde On the other 
hand, Mrs. Langtry? after attending a performance of PaUence in 
New York, is said to have expressed her surprise at this inter- 
pretation of the character. *'In England,'' she said, *' Bunthorne 
is dressed after a countryman of yours— Mr, Whistler, a very 
distinguished artist. The tuft on the forehead and some other 
peculiarities of the make-up are characteristic of him." {New York 
Herald, Thursday, October 26, 1882, page 6.) 

(13) The Colonel by F. C. Burnand— an '^aesthetic ' comedy, 
was given its premiere at the Prince of Wales Theatre, London, 
Wednesday, February 2, 1 88 1. The American production was at 
Abbey's New Park Theatre, Monday, January 16, 1882, with Lester 
Wallack in the title-role. It was a satire on all the forms of 
sestheticism, but Basil Giorgione, the Knight of the Lily, was made 
to bear the brunt of the ridicule ; and because of the author's asso- 
ciation with the Punch cartoons, this character was quite naturally 
assumed to be a travesty upon Oscar Wilde. 

(14) Puck began with occasional references such as that in Fitz- 
noodle in America for September 28, 188 1, Vol. X. The more 
systematic bombardment commenced with No. 253, January 11, 
1882, when the entire last page was devoted to ** The -Esthete.'* In 
addition to this tribute, the larger part of that number and the suc- 
ceeding one were generously allotted to his reception at the hands of 
**Fitznoodle" and **Hugo Dusenbury.'' This enthusiasm spent 
itself by the middle of March, but not until it had given Mr. R. K. 
Munkittrick the opportunity to unburden himself of a series of 
really delightful parodies of Wilde's Imprssions, to which he applied 
such significant titles as ** Impression Du Pork-Chop,'* ** Impres- 
sion Du Bull-Dog " and the like. These were pure fun, as was 
Helen Gray Cone's really brilliant Narcissus in Camden, A Clas- 
sical Dialogue, between Whitman and Wilde {^The Century, No- 
vember, 1882) ; but not so were the parodies which appeared in The 
World under the general title of The ^Esthetic Boom, and signed 
** OW! " However clever these were at times, they almost passed 
the bounds of decency by the undue emphasis which their author 
laid upon certain of the more amorous of Wilde's poems. It seems 
strange that The World, which of all American journals treated 
Wilde with the most courtesy, should have permitted the appear. 



178 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

ance of such verse on its editorial page. Harper's Weekly and Har- 
per's Bazar, through the master hand of Thomas Nast, also ex- 
ploited the foibles or peculiarities of the Apostle of -^stheticism and 
even Life entered the lists in a modest way. But the most flagrant 
example of so-called American Humour may be found in Ye Soul 
Agonies iit Ye Life of Oscar Wilde, a rare pamphlet of twenty-two 
pages purporting to be a comic history of the poet, with a pictorial 
cover, eight full-page illustrations and several sketches — all from 
the pen of Charles Kendrick, and representing Wilde at all ages 
from infancy. Although this pamphlet does not seem to have been 
issued with any malice, it was hardly an example of good taste, espe- 
cially when it is recalled that copies were hawked by vendors on the 
streets outside the public halls in which Wilde lectured. 

(15) There was none more ready than Wilde to recognize merit in 
the work of others. Even The World Yexsts, mentioned above, are 
referred to in a personal letter (January, 1889), as *' admirable 
parodies." On this subject he goes on to say: **Parody requires 
a light touch, a fanciful treatment, and, oddly enough, a love for 
the poet whom it caricatures. One's disciples can parody one— no- 
body else." 

(16) See Note 2, page 181, for Decorative Art in America, 

Page xvi 

(17) Z'y^^^'?^;^, New York, Wednesday, January 18,1882, page 2,cl. 2. 

(18) The Sun,'New York, Thursday, February 2, 1882, page 2, cl. 2. 

(19) See Note 7, page 188, for Joaquin Miller^ The Good 
Samaritan, 

(20) New ' York Daily Tribune, Sunday, November 5, 1882, page 3, 
els. 3-4. 

Page xvii 

(21) See Note 3, page 182, for Decorative Art in America, 

(22) See Note i, page 181, for Decorative Art in ATuerica, 

Page xviii 

(23) The Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray. See Note 8. 

Page xix 

(24) Cf. The second introductory keynote of Decorative Art in 
America, page 2. 

(25) The Decay of Lying. See Note 6, page 17$. 



NOTES I 79 

Page XX 

(26) Cf. The third introductory keynote of Decorative Art in 
America y page 2. 

(27) New York Herald, Sunday, August I2, 1883, page 10, cl. 3. 

(28) The Critic as Artist. Part II \ or, in its earlier form in The 
Nineteenth Century, September, 1890. 

(29) The Soul of Man Under Socialism. The Fortnightly Review, 
February, 1891, Vol. LV, O. S. ; or, in The Eclectic Magazine, April, 
1 89 1, Vol. LI 1 1, N, S., and the several reprint editions in pamphlet 
and book-form. 

Page xxi 

(30) The so-called Envoi is Wilde's Gallicism for the introduction 
which he contributed to Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf by Rennell 
Rodd, a book of poems published through Wilde's agency in Phila- 
delphia, 1882. Wilde was a friend of Rodd, an Englishman in the 
diplomatic service ; but the rather unusual character of the first issue 
of this book by J. M. Stoddart, made the author so conspicuous that 
its publication is said to have caused a breach in their friendship. 
The original edition was printed in brown ink on thin parchment, 
interleaved with green tissue. The book appeared again in 1882 in 
a more conventional form. The Envoi was reissued in 1904 as a 
*' Privately Printed" book in London; and in a choice edition of 
50 copies by Thomas B. Mosher, Maine, in 1905. 

(31) See Note 8, page 198, for Mr, Whistler's ''Ten O' Clock''; 
also Note 9, page 202, for The Relation of Dress to Art, 

Page xxii 

(32) Wilde's theories are propounded in both his American 
lectures on art (1882); in his two criticisms of Whistler's '* 7>« 
O'clock,'' included in this collection (1885); The Soul of Man 
Under Socialism (1891); as well as in a number of notes in The 
Woman's World, 1887- 1889. 

(33) See Note 6, page 198, for Mr, Whistler's ''Ten O' Clock," 

(34) See James McNeill Whistler by H. W. Singer. Charles 
Scribner's Sons, 1905, pages 74-5. 

(35) See Note 5, page 182, for Decorative Art in America; 
also matter referred to, page 6. 



l8o DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Page xxiii 

(36) See Note 6, page 198, for Mr. Whistler's '*Ten O' Clock:' 

(37) See The Relation of Dress to Art, at the foot of page 53. 

(38) xhe Critic as Artist. Part Ily in Intentions \ or its issue in 
magazine form, September, 1890. 

(39) The Soul of Man Under Socialism , February, 1 89 1. 

Page xxiv 

(40) Cf. The fourth introductory keynote of Mrs. Langtry as 
Hester Grazebrook, page 24. 

Page xxvi 
(*i) This occurs in a personal letter, dated Paris, May 24, 1898. 

Page xxvii 
(^) The Saturday Review, December 8, 1900. Vol. XC. 
(43) The Critic as Artist. Part II. 



NOTES FOR "DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA" 

Page 3 

(1) This discourse was delivered for the first time in New York 
City, May, 1882. It was heralded by circulars of yellowish Japan 
tissue, on which appeared a reproduction of the head from J. E. 
Kelly's etching of Wilde (See Frontispiece of De Profundis^ 
G. P. Putnam's Sons), and the following announcement :— Art 
Decoration. The Practical Application of The Principles of The 
-Esthetic Theory to Exterior and Interior House Decoration, 
With Observations Upon Dress and Personal Ornaments. A 
Lecture By Oscar Wilde. To Be Given At Wallack's, Thursday 
Afternoon, May nth, at Half-Past Two O'Clock. 

Earlier in the spring, he had lectured on the same general sub- 
ject. In Omaha, for example, he referred to many of the American 
houses as **illy designed, decorated shabbily and in bad taste, and 
filled with furniture that was not honestly made and was out of 
character." See also The Freeman* s Journal {T)\xh\u])y Jan. 7, 1885. 

(2) Oscar Wilde's first public appearance in America, under the 
management of R. D' Oyly Carte, was on the occasion of his lecture 
on The English Renaissance at Chickering Hall, Monday, 
January 9, 1882, at 8 o'clock. An interesting account of this even 
occurs in The N'ew York World, Tuesday, January 10, 1882, page 2,f 
columns 2-3, and in The Nation, January 12, Vol. XXXIV. The 
lecture was printed in The New -York Daily Tribune of Jan- 
uary 10, page 2, and in The Sicn, page I. From these sources it 
has been reprinted more or less correctly in the following editions : 

I. Poems by Oscar Wilde; also his Lecture on the English 
Renaissance, The Seaside Library, New York. January 19, 1882. 
(No. ii83ofVol. 58.) Pp. 32. 

i8i 



1 82 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

II. Oscar Wilde^s Poems and Lecture. Ogilvie's Popular 
Reading. People's Library, New York, 1882. Pp. 30. 

III. Poems by Oscar Wilde, together with his Lecture on the 
English Renaissance. {Now first published) Paris, 1903. Pp. 216. 

IV. Lecture on the English Renaissance. Rose Leaf and Apple 
Leaf: L'Envoi. By Oscar Wilde. Portland, Maine. Thomas 
B. Mosher. 1905. Pp. 42. 

Page 4 

(3) Between January 16 and May 5, 1882, Wilde visited all the 
important centres of the North and West. In most cases, he 
lectured on The English Renaissance, varying his introduction and 
conclusion to suit the audience. The lecture tour embraced among 
other cities, Philadelphia, Washington, Baltimore, Boston, Hart- 
ford, New Haven, Rochester (in the order named) ; Cincinnati, 
Louisville,* St. Louis, Chicago, Racine, Milwaukee, St. Paul, San 
Francisco, Denver, Kansas City and Omahr. * See page 65 and 
Note. 

Page 5 

(4) See Harper's Weekly, Saturday, September 9, 1882. No. 
1342, Vol. XXVI. ** Oscar Wilde on Our Cast-Iron Stoves : An- 
other American Institution sat down on." — Cartoon by Thomas Nast. 

Page 6 

(5) Cf. '* The truths of art cannot be taught. They are revealed 
only— revealed to natures which have made themselves receptive of 
all beautiful impressions by the study and worship of all beautiful 
things." — Lecture on the English Renaissance^ 

Page 7 
(^) For further expression of his beliefs as regards women's 
clothes and their making, cf. Literary and Other Notes. The 
Woman's World, February, 1888, or page 149 of Essays, Criti- 
cisms and Reviews ; also. Pall Mall Gazette, or Pall Mall Budget 
for October-November, 1884. 

Page 8 
C^ See Harper's Bazar, Saturday, June 10, 1882. No. 23 of 
Vol. XV. *« Wilde on Us. Something To * Live Up To ' in Amer- 



NOTES 183 

ica."— Cartoon by Thomas Nast, representing Wilde with a miner's 
hat and boots in one hand, etc. 

Page 9 

(8) Wilde himself, however, had the courage of his convictions 
and caused a sensation by appearing at a Polo Game at Newport, 
with a white slouch hsit. — TAe New York Worlds Sunday, July 
16, 1882, page 6, cl. 3. He elaborated these ideas in his lectures on 
dress in England in 1884. In a letter printed in the Pall Mall 
Budget and Pall Mall Gazette for that year, he writes of head- 
gear : *' In a hat made on right principles one should be able to turn 
the brim up or down according as the day is dark or fair, dry or wet, 
etc.'*; and of foot-gear: **Aboot should be made of soft leather 
always, and if worn high at all, must be either laced up the front or 
carried well over the knee : in the latter case one combines perfect 
freedom for walking together with perfect protection against rain, 
neither of which a short stiff boot will ever give one ; and when one 
is sitting in the house, the long soft boot can be turned down, as the 
boot of 1640 was." 

Page 10 

(^) This must refer to one of the many studies made for **The 
Symphony in White, No. 4" or *'The Three Girls." The final 
design was a large panel painted some time in the early seventies 
and is now in the possession of Mr. Charles L. Freer of Detroit. 
It was originally intended to occupy the wall-panel opposite **La 
Princesse du Pays de la Porcelaine " in Mr. Leyland's dining-room. 
(See below.) Mr. Whistler began to paint the finished picture on 
more than one canvas with figures about life size, and although the 
painting "was never completed, Mr. Chapman owns a large canvas 
which Mr. Whistler left half-finished when he went to Venice."— 
The Art of James McNeill Whistler by T. R. Way and G. R. Den- 
nis. Pages 26, 30-32 and 100. The three first and better known 
** Symphonies in White " were exhibited, 1863-7, as **The White 
Girl," <* The Little White Girl " and ** Symphony in White, No. 3." 

(10) The celebrated dining-room known as the ** Peacock Room " 
was in the residence of Frederick R. Leyland, 49 Prince's Gate 
London. Whistler's decorative scheme in blue and gold was carried 
out by him in 1876-77. Most interesting allusions to this work are 



184 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

made in The History of Modem Painting by Richard Muther, Vol. 
3, page 662 ; Recollections and Impressions of James A . McNeill 
Whistler by Arthur Jerome Eddy, pages 128-130; James McNeill 
Whistler hy H. W. Singer, pages 12, 36; Whistler as I Knew Him 
by Mortimer Menpes, pages 129 - 132 ; The Art of J. McNeill Whist- 
ler by T. R. Way and G. R. Dennis, pages 31, 99- loi ; Pall Mall 
Budget, June 16, 1892, Vol. 40; and Whistler's Peacock Room, 
New York Herald, Magazine Section, June 17, 1904. Of these, the 
last three contain illustrations of the panels. The raison d''etre for 
the colour-scheme of this room was Whistler^s painting ** La Prin- 
cesse du Pays de la Porcelaine *' which hung over the mantel. This 
was first exhibited at the Paris Salon of 1865 and is reproduced in 
the volumes by H. W. Singer ; T. R. Way and G. R. Dennis ; Pall 
Mall Budget, June 2, 1892; and Impressionist Painting by Wyn- 
ford Dewhurst. Both this picture and the peacock decorations (ac- 
quired in 1904) are now in the possession of Mr. C. L. Freer. 

(11) This room is the Camera di San Paolo, Parma. At the bidding 
of the abbess of the convent. Donna Giovanna Piacenza, Correggio 
decorated her private room during the months of April - December, 
1 5 18. ** From the cornice above the walls sixteen ribs rise to the 
centre of the vault, forming a like number of lunettes. Correggio 
covered the whole with frescoes, adapting his scheme of decoration 
to the structure of the vault. The design is a bower of foliage 
supported on a trellis of canes, with sixteen oval openings, through 
which a joyous band of naked Amorini, moving apparently along 
an outside gallery, are seen at play.^' — Antonio Allegri da Correggio. 
His Life, His Friends, and His Time. By Corrado Ricci, 1896. 
Following page 160 is a plate illustrating the cupola of this room. 

Page 13 

(12) **Wars there must be always; but I think that creating a 
common intellectual atmosphere might make men brothers." — 
Lecture on the English Renaissance, 

Page 14 

(13) See 'Oscar Wilde' in People I Have Met. Short Sketches 
of Many Prominent Persons, by Mary Watson, San Francisco, 1890. 



NOTES 185 

Cf. **In the Chinese restaurant, where these navvies meet to 
have supper in the evening, I found them drinking tea out of china 
cups as delicate as the petals of a rose-leaf, whereas at the gaudy 
hotels I was supplied with a delf cup, an inch and a half thick.'*— 
Impressions of America. Wandsworth, September, 1883. 

Page 15 

(14) Public Industrial Art School, a part of the public-school sys- 
tem of Philadelphia. 

(15) Charles Godfrey Leland, author, editor and journalist, born 
in Philadelphia, August, 1824. His literary work extends over 
such dissimilar fields as are represented by Hans Breittnann^s Barty, 
The English Gypsies and Their Language^ Abraham Lincoln, and 
a series of Art Manuals, 

(16) Mr. Wilde here turned to an adjoining table and held up to 
view the different articles which are mentioned. 

(17) In a lecture on America and Art Schools, which Wilde de- 
livered in London, April, 1884, he is reported to have expressed the 
hope that a time would come when boys would prefer to look at a 
bird or even draw on^ rather than throw '*the customary stone." 

In an earlier lecture, Impressions of America ^ September, 1883, he 
said: **Boys and girls should be taught to use their hands to make 
something, and they would be less apt to destroy and be mis- 
chievous." 



NOTES FOR "JOAQUIN MILLER, THE GOOD 
SAMARITAN " 

Page 19 
(^) Cincinnatus Heine Miller, known by the pen-name of Joaquin 
Miller, which he assumed after he had written a paper in defence of 
the Mexican bandit, Joaquin Murietta. Born in Indiana, Nov., 
1841, his father moved to Oregon when he was nine years of age. 
After an adventurous boyhood, which included an Indian campaign 
in 1857, he graduated from Columbia College, Oregon, in 1858. 
Admitted to the bar in i860, he started for the Idaho gold mines in 
'61, but two years later he was back in Oregon as editor of The 
Democratic Register at Eugene. He resumed practice of law in '64, 
and for services against the Indians, was appointed Judge of Grant 
County in '66. From 1870 to 1887 his life was spent in Europe, 
and largely in New York and Washington, where he followed a lit- 
erary career and published a number of poems (a collected edition 
in 1882), some prose and several plays. Since 1887 he has made 
his home in a cabin, which he calls ** The Hights,'* from its position 
on the green hills overlooking Oakland and Alameda. It is here in 
the California which he loves, that he has dwelt in recent years, 
except for the time when he served as a newspaper correspondent 
in the Boxer Rebellion of 1900. 

(2) Oscar Wilde delivered his Lecture on the English Renaissance 
at the Grand Opera House, Rochester, N. Y., on the evening of 
Tuesday, February 7th, 1882. By pre-arrangement among the stu- 
dents, his reception was most disorderly— so insulting in fact, that 
policemen were summoned to quiet the disturbance. For specific 
details, see The New York Hera Id, V^Qdnes^dLj, February 8, 1882, page 
10; The Boston Daily Globe, Thursday, February 9, 1882, page i; 
and The Boston Evening Transcript, same date, page 4. 

Page 20 

(3) Oscar Wilde and Joaquin Miller met for the first time at a 

187 



1 88 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

reception given in New York by Mrs. Marion T. Fortescue on Fri- 
day, January 13, 1882. Mr. Miller immediately extended the hand of 
good-fellowship to the Irishman, although Wilde was already being 
persecuted by almost the entire American Press. 

(*) His first visit to London was in 1870, for the purpose of se- 
curing a publisher for his poems. These were published by Long- 
mans in 1871, under the title of Songs of the Sierras, He again 
visited London in 1873, in which year were issued Songs of the Sun- 
lands, It is said that he made a sensation by appearing in the cos- 
tume of a vaquero ; he was much feted and lionized, and called by 
some **The American Byron." 

(5) Wilde delivered his lecture in St. Louis at the Mercantile 
Library Hall on Saturday, February 25, 1882. 

Page 21 

(^) Cf. **But you must not judge of aestheticism by the satire of 
Mr. Gilbert, any more than you judge of the strength and splen- 
dour of sun or sea by the dust that dances in the beam or the bubble 
that breaks on the wave.^' — Lecture on the English Renaissance. 

(7) From the date of his first address up to that of the present letter, 
his audiences, if never enthusiastic, were at least attentive and courte- 
ous, except in Boston, Brooklyn and Rochester. The Rochester 
episode has already been recorded. Wilde lectured at Boston Music 
Hall on Tuesday, January 31, ''Z2. The first rows of the orchestra 
had been reserved by sixty Harvard students, who came, dressed 
after the manner of Bunthorne in Patience^ which at that time was 
being played at the Standard Theatre, New York City. Instead, how- 
ever, of showing any embarrassment, he completely turned the tables 
by his witty sallies and good humour, thereby winning the esteem and 
good-will of the audience. For an account of the lecture, refer to 
any Boston newspaper for Feb. i, 1882; The Sun, New York, 
Feb. 1st, or The New York World, Feb. 2nd. The most interesting 
allusions are the editorials in The Boston Evening Transcript of 
February ist, and those of The Sun and The World of New York, 
on Boston's reception of Wilde, in their issues of Feb. 2nd. Under 
the latter date The Transcript had the fairness to supplement its first 
editorial with an acknowledgment of Wilde's fine bearing in the 
face of churlish provocation. To quote : ** Mr. Wilde achieved a 



NOTES 189 

real triumph and it was by right of conquest, by force of being a 
gentleman in the truest sense of the word." 

As regards the attitude of his Brooklyn audience at the Academy 
of Music, Friday, February 3rd, it was merely unsympathetic and ill- 
mannered in its interruptions of feigned applause. For details, 
refer to The Sun, The New York World and The New York Herald 
for February 4, 1882, 

(^) At the date of this letter, these men and women included 
General and Mrs. McClellan, John Boyle O'Reilly, George W. 
Childs, Julia Ward Howe, Mrs. Robert H. Sherwood, Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, Clara Morris, Louisa Alcott, Kate Field, Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow, all of whom extended to him some courtesy, 
if not their hospitality. Later he became acquainted with many of 
the most prominent people of this country and not least among them 
General Grant, and the Reverend Henry Ward Beecher, whose 
guest he became at his home in Peekskill, in the summer of 1882. 

\r 
W Page 22 

(^) The ** literary ^^/;2m," etc., to whom Wilde refers throughout 
this letter was the author of an editorial, signed T. W. H. which ap- 
^ peared in The Woman's Journal, Vol. XIII, No. 5, Saturday, 
I Feb. 4, 1882. This was an attack on the personality and the 

' theories of Wilde, terminating with the plea that he should be 

socially ostracized. Extracts from this article were reprinted in the 
New -York Daily Tribune, Sunday, February 5, 1882. To this, 
Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, who had received Wilde in Boston, replied 
in The Boston Daily Globe, February 15, page 4. This letter was 
copied in The Boston Evening Transcript of February 16, page 5: 
A^ **As Colonel H * . . . n m The Wo7nan'' s Journal \.2\lq% QyiQ.^'^\\.ox\. 
y to the entertainment of Mr. Oscar Wilde in private houses, ... I 
as one of the entertainers alluded to . . . etc. Mr. Wilde is a 
young man in whom many excellent people have found much to 
I ^,.-like. ..." Mrs. Howe further proved her friendship for Wilde 
j/ by making him her guest at Lawton's Valley a part of the time that 
he was at Newport, where he lectured at the Casino, July 15th. 
The **T. W. H." episode was referred to later in an editorial en- 
titled ** A Stale Joke," Harper's Weekly, No. 1335, July 22, 1882, 
Vol. XXVI— an article in which Wilde was treated with customary 



igO DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

severity. Though Wilde's allusions to his slanderer are lacking 
in restraint, it must be remembered that he was attacked without 
just provocation by a man whose high position in the community 
made this attack as injurious as it was undignified. It is interesting 
to note that this is the only display of feeling recorded of his visit 
in America. The one parallel expression of resentment occurs in 
the Whistler-Wilde controversy of 1890. See Truths Jan. 9, 1890, 
and The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, page 236-42. 

(10) So many were the ** scribes," who ventured to express them- 
selves upon Wilde's appearance and theories that it is difficult to fix 
upon the particular objects of his contempt. At the time of this 
letter, however, the two papers that had been the most virulent in 
their censure of him were The Washington Post and The Saturday 
Evening Gazette^ Boston. The first, published on Sunday, January 
22nd, 1882, a most insulting cartoon. When Colonel Morse, at 
that period manager for Mr. Carte, wrote to the editor expressing his 
indignation over such unjustifiable treatment, further insulting 
comments were made at the time of the publication of his letter, 
January 24th. As regards this very episode, the Chicago papers 
were especially hostile to Wilde. They went so far (he writes to 
Colonel Morse from Omaha) as to "accuse me of encouraging the 
attacks on me, and of having * corrected the proofs of the Washing- 
ton attack and approved of the caricature before it was published ' — 
These are the words of The Chicago Hera Id. ^^ Such accusations 
were not unusual. The Gazette, in its issues of January 21st 
and January 28th, indulged in nothing short of abusive invective, part 
of which is quoted in The Boston Daily Globe for January 23rd and 
30th. Under the first date, are quoted also extracts of a letter from one 
who is represented as being *'one of the foremost literary men of New 
York." This is an anonymous and extremely priggish explanation 
that literary New York refused to receive in its ranks the soi-disant 
poet, who was trying to obtain admission to literary and social 
circles by means cf letters of introduction secured through the 
agency of his manager. This was palpably false, and subsequent to 
the date of its original appearance in The Boston Transcript for 
January 13th, called forth some comment and ridicule from The New 
York World in an editorial under date of January 15th. 

Apart from the two papers alluded to, the Press as a whole assumed 



NOTES 191 

an attitude which was mainly tolerant or flippant or, at the worst, 
satirical, though The Springfield Republican was occasionally insult- 
ing in tone and The Boston Transcript rather offensive in the per- 
sonalities with which its editorials bristled until after the Boston 
lecture. 

(11) Although Narcissus is one of the characters which Wilde uses 
most frequently in simile, this is probably a direct retort to the 
following passage in an editorial entitled Oscar Wilde'' s Prototypes, 
which appeared in The Boston Evening Transcript, January 14, 
1882 : '* There has never been a lack of these creatures whose life 
is passed in posturing. Narcissus is perhaps the earliest recorded 
instance.** 

Note. The editor takes this occasion to acknowledge Mr. 
Joaquin Miller's courtesy in consenting to the publication of his 
letter to Oscar Wilde, 



NOTES FOR " MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER 
GRAZEBROOK" 

Page 25 

(1) This dramatic criticism was printed in The Nei.v York Worlds 
Tuesday, November 7, 1882, page 5, cl. i. 

(2) Mrs. Langtry made her American debut at Wallack's Thea- 
tre, New York, on Monday evening, November 6, 1882. She played 
the role of Hester Grazebrook in An Unequal Matchy a comedy by 
Tom Taylor. 

(3) Cf. ** Art is the mathematical result of the emotional desire 
for beauty."—** Vera " and the Drama y page 36. 

Page 26 
(*) Helen of Troy, was, according to Euripides, the daughter of 
Leda and Zeus. She is one of Wilde*s favourite characters, alluded 
to frequently in his essays and poems. Apropos of .both Helen 
and Mrs. Langtry, Wilde is reported to have made the following 
statement in an interview, chronicled in The Halifax Morning 
Herald, October 10, 1882 : ** I would rather have discovered Mrs. 
Langtry than have discovered America. Her beauty is in outline 
perfectly moulded. She will be a beauty at eighty-five. Yes, it 
was for such ladies that Troy was destroyed, and well might Troy 
be destroyed for such a woman." 

Page 27 
(5) Albert Moore, born in York, 1841 ; died in London, 1892. 
**From the Greeks he learnt the combination of noble lines, the 
charm of dignity and quietude, while the Japanese gave him the 
feeling for harmonies of colour, for soft, delicate, blended tones. By 
a capricious union of both these elements he formed his refined 
and exquisite style." — The History of Modem Painting, by Rich- 
ard Muther, Vol. 3. 

193 



194 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

('6) Frederick, Lord Leighton, the classicist par excellence^ born 
in Scarborough, 1830; died January, 1896. He was president of 
the Royal Academy from 1879 to the date of his death. — The His- 
tory of Modern Pahitingy by Richard Muther, Vol. 3. 

Page 28 
C^) Mrs. Langtry, who was under the management of Mr. Ab- 
bey, was to have made her debut at Abbey's New Park Theatre, 
22nd Street and Broadway, on Monday evening, the 30th of October. 
This theatre, however, was destroyed by fire with all of the scenery, 
on that very afternoon. Through the courtesy and generosity of 
Mr. Wallack, Mr. Abbey was enabled to present Mrs. Langtry ex- 
actly one week later at the present Wallack's Theatre. There was 
consequently only a very brief interval for the preparation of new 
scenery. 

Page 29 

(8) Cf. "As a rule, the hero is smothered in bric-a-brac and palm 
trees, lost in the gilded abyss of Louis Quatorze furniture, or re- 
duced to a mere midge in the midst of marqueterie; whereas the 
background should always be kept as a background, and colour sub- 
ordinated to effect." — The Truth of Alas ks, 

(9) The decorations of Madison Square Theatre in 1882, were by 
Louis C. Tiffany & Co. The curtain to which Mr. Wilde alludes 
was a very decorative scenic scheme in the Japanesque manner. 

(1^) See : I. Why either Claude or Titian ? a letter of protest 
m The New York World, November 8, 1882, page 5, cl. 4. 

11. Realism in Painting and in Drama, a similar letter in The 
New York World, Nov. 9, 1882, page 2, cl. 4. The first cites the 
work of Salvator Rosa and Rubens as instances in which scenes and 
figures are given equal prominence ; the second seeks to refute 
Wilde by recalling his expressed approval of the stage-setting at 
the London Lyceum and his plea for realistic dress. {Note. A 
careful study of Wilde's theories of costume, etc., as presented in 
The Truth of Masks, will show that he was not all inconsistent 
in his point of view.) 



NOTES FOR "'VERA' AND THE DRAMA" 

Page 33 

(1) The play, Vera, or the Nihilists, a drama in a prologue and 
four acts, was, if we are to believe an interviewer, written as early 
as 1876. — 77^^ New York World, August 12, 1883. It was about 
to receive a hearing in London, December, 1881, under the manage- 
ment of Dion Boucicault, with Mrs. Bernard-Beere in the title-role, 
when for a reason still unexplained, it was suddenly withdrawn, and 
Wilde started for America. Current gossip had it that the socialistic 
sentiments of which it was the expression, were offensive to the 
Ambassador of the Czar, and that it was suppressed for political 
reasons. This, however, has never been authenticated. {The New 
York Times, December 26, 188 1.) 

We know that Wilde brought the manuscript of his play with 
him to America at the time of his first visit, 1882 {New -York 
Daily Tribune, Jan. 3, 1882), and that, among others, Lawrence 
Barrett expressed his admiration for it. Wilde endeavored to place 
the play through his manager, Mr. D'Oyly Carte, but whether 
it was eventually through him that Wilde was successful, is ex- 
tremely doubtful ; for he approached Mr. Wallack, Mr. Palmer and 
a number of other managers before Miss Prescott accepted it. 

A very small acting edition was privately printed in 1882, but 
copies of this are now practically unobtainable. In an undated 
letter, which Wilde addressed to Colonel Morse from Boston (prob- 
ably in the autumn of 1882), he thanks his manager for ** sending 
the play to Washington." He adds : *' I think to copyright under 
your name would be a very good plan." This he follows with 
directions for the distribution of a number of the copies. Mr. 
Morse accounts for some twelve copies disposed of in this way. 

Wilde returned to America in 1883 for the purpose of attending his 
premiere, and reached New York on August nth. On Monday, 

19s 



196 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

August 20th, the play was produced for the first time at the Union 
Square Theatre under the management of Marie Prescott's husband, 
W. Perzel. The latter claimed to have spent some $10,000 on the 
costumes, scenery, etc. ; but despite careful preparation and lavish ex- 
penditure, the play proved a total failure. It was withdrawn after one 
week's run, to the great loss of the manager who was said to have 
contracted with Wilde for a run of 100 nights at $50.00 a perform- 
ance. Miss Prescott, in a letter published in The New York Times 
and The New York Sun, August 24, 1883, protested against the 
attitude of the dramatic critics, which, she insinuated, was one of 
pre-concerted condemnation. In Vera, Miss Prescott played the 
title-role, the only woman's part in the play ; G. C. Boniface, the 
Czar ; Lewis Morrison, the Czarevitch ; and Edward Lamb, Prince 
Paul. 

In 1902, a version of Vera was published in England pur- 
porting to be printed from **the author's own copy, showing his 
corrections of and additions to the original text." In this it is stated 
that** This play was written in 1881." The edition, which is 
represented as a limited one of 200 numbered copies, privately 
printed, was issued at 12s. 6d. 

(2) It is nevertheless a fact that Mr. Wilde tried to secure Miss 
Clara Morris for the part. In an unpublished letter to R. D'Oyly 
Carte, he writes from St. Paul, Minnesota, March 16, 1882: *' I 
have received your letter about the Play : I agree to place it 
entirely in your hands for production on the terms of my receiving 
half the profits, and a guarantee of ;^200 paid down to me on 
occasion of its production. As regards the cast, I am sure you see 
yourself how well the part will suit Clara Morris. I am, however, 
quite aware how ^i^^://^ she is. ..." He also thought of Miss 
Rose Coghlan for the part, and in this connection it is interesting 
to recall that it was she who secured, for America, his fifth play, 
A Woman of No Importance. But it was on Miss Morris he had 
set his heart. He writes again to Mr. Carte in 1882: **I feel it 
will succeed, if she ( Clara Morris ) act and you manage." And in 
the same letter regarding the other roles: ** Could you get Kyrle 
Bellew or Johnson Forbes Robertson for the Czarevitch? Flock- 
ton would be an able Prince Paul." 



NOTES FOR " MR. WHISTLER'S ' TEN O'CLOCK ' " 

Page 41 

(1) This review appeared first in The Fall Mall Gazettey Saturday, 
February 21, 1885, and was later included in the weekly issue of 
The Fall Mall Budget, Friday, February 27, 1885, Vol. ZZ- An 
extract also appears in The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, 

(2) Mr. Whistler's lecture on art, which he whimsically termed 
Ten O* Clock, because that was the hour of his address, was delivered 
in London, February 20, 1885; at Cambridge, March 24th; at 
Oxford, April 30th. It was published in pamphlet form by 
Chatto & Windus, 1888; also by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. in 
America; and is included in The Gentle Art of Making Enemies^ 
page 135- 
Page 42 

(3) Cf. *' There was something almost sublime in his inhuman 
devotion to the purely visible aspect of people, as of a great surgeon 
who will not allow human pity to obstruct the operation of his 
craft." Mr, Whistler, The Athenceum^ No. 3952, July 25, 1903. 

Page 43 

C*) It must be remembered that not long before this, in October, 
1884, Wilde had delivered his lectures on Dress, in which he 
suggested certain radical reforms in the costumes of men and 
women, thereby giving rise to an interesting controversy in the 
pages of The Fall Mall Gazette, which lasted till the middle of 
November. 

(5) Cf. ''Velasquez, whose Infantas clad in inaesthetic hoops, 
are, as works of Art, of the same quality as the Elgin Marbles." — 
Whistler's ''Ten O' Clock,'' 

Page 44 

(6) Of Whistler's attitude towards the development of public 
taste, Swinburne expressed himself as follows, in his article entitled 

197 



198 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Mr, Whistler's Lecture on Art ' *' But it does not follow that all 
efforts to widen the sphere of appreciation, to enlarge the circle of 
intelligence must needs be puny and unprofitable. Good intentions 
will not secure results ; but neither — strange as it may seem — will 
the absence of good intentions." The Fortnightly Review^ June, 
1888, Vol. 49, pages 745-53; or The Eclectic Magazine^ August, 
1888, Vol. 48, N. S., pages 154- 158. To this Whistler replied in 
The World (London), June 3, 1888. See The Gentle Art of Making 
Enemies : Freeing a Last Friend ; also ^^Et tu, Brute ! " 

C^) '* We have then but to wait— until, with the mark of the Gods 
upon him, there come among us again the chosen— who shall con- 
tinue what has gone before. Satisfied that, even were he never to 
appear, the story of the beautiful is already complete — hewn in the 
marbles of the Parthenon— and broidered, with the birds, upon the 
fan of Hokusai, at the foot of Fusi-yama." — Whistler's *'Ten 
O'clock.'" (The Conclusion.) 

(8) Cf. *'The master stands in no relation to the moment at 
which he occurs — a monument of isolation — hinting at sadness — 
having no part in the progress of his fellow-men."— Whistler's ^^Ten 
O'clock:' 

Page 45 

(9) Cf. *' Indeed, so far from its being true that the artist is the best 
judge of art, a really great artist can never judge of other people's 
work at all, and can hardly in fact, judge of his own. . . , It is 
exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is the proper judge 
of it." The Critic as Artist. Part LL. (tV". B. In this passage the 
term ** artist " is used to denote the painter or poet— the creator.) 

(1^) Cf. ** Art does not address herself to the specialist. Her claim 
is that she is universal, and that in all her manifestations she is one." 
— The Critic as Artist. Part LL, {Lntentions^ 1 891.) "I believe, 
myself, in the correlation of the arts — that painting, poetry, and 
sculpture are only different forms of the same truth." — An Lnter- 
view with Oscar Wilde. New - York Daily Tribune, Jan. 8, 1882. 

(11) Whistler's marginal note to the extract from this lecture in 
The Gentle Art of Making Ene^nies, reads: ^'•Reflection. — It is not 
enough that our simple Sunflower thrive on his *thistle'— he has 
now grafted Edgar Poe on the * rose ' tree of the early American 
Market in * a certain milieu ' of dry goods and sympathy ; and * a 



NOTES 199 

certain entourage * of worship and wooden nutmegs. Born of a 
Nation, not absolutely * devoid of any sense of beauty * —Their 
idol— cherished— -listened to— and understood ! Foolish Beaude- 
laire!— Mistaken Mallarm^l" 

(12) As a result of this criticism from Wilde, occurred the following 
interesting exchange of letters : 

I. Tenderness in Tite Street, (Signed with the ** Butterfly device. ") 
^The World, February 25, 1885. (Whistler's Gentle Art of Mak- 
ing Enemies y page 162.) 

To the Poet : 

Oscar,— I have read your exquisite article in the Pall MalL Noth- 
ing is more delicate, in the flattery of *' the Poet " to ** the Painter," 
than the naivete of *'the Poet " in the choice of his Painters — Ben- 
jamin West and Paul Delaroche! 

You have pointed out that **the Painter's" mission is to find 
*' le beau dans Vhorribley^'* and have left to **the Poet '* the discovery 
of '* V horrible " dans *« le beau " / 
Chelsea. 

II. To the Painter. — The World, Feb. 25, 1885. (Whistler's 
Gentle Art of Making Enemies, page 163.) 

To the Painter : 

• 

Dear Butterfly, —By the aid of a biographical dictionary, I made 
the discovery that there were once two painters, called Benjamin 
West and Paul Delaroche, who rashly lectured upon Art. As of 
their works nothing at all remains, I conclude that they explained 
themselves away. 

Be warned in time, James ; and remain, as I do, incomprehen- 
sible. To be great is to be misunderstood.* — Tout a vous, 

Oscar Wilde. 

♦From Essay II, Self- Reliance, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

{N. B, Whistler's customary reflection reads : **I do know a 
bird, who, like Oscar, with his head in the sand, still believes in the 
undiscovered. If to be misunderstood is to be great, it was rash in 
Oscar to reveal the source of his inspirations : the ^Biographical 
Dictionary/^ ") 



NOTES FOR "THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART '» 

Page 49 

(1) This essay appeared first in The Pall Mall Gazette, Saturday, 
February 28, 1885, and was later included in the weekly issue of 
The Pall Mall Budget, Friday, March 6, 1885, Vol. ZZ^ 

Page 50 

(2) Cf. ** Subordination in art does not mean disregard of truth; 
it means conversion of fact into effect. '*— 7!^^ Truth of Masks, 
** The quarrel between the school of facts and the school of effects 
touches them not.'' ^ —London Models. See page 91. *' English public 
opinion tries to constrain . . . the man who makes things that are 
beautiful in effect, and compels the journalist to retail things that 
are ugly ... in idiCt.''^ — The Soul of Man Under Socialism. See 
the first keynote, page 146. {N. B. A great number of ex- 
amples might be given to illustrate Wilde's habitual use of cer- 
tain pairs of words, as in the above instance. See Phrases in Index.) 

(3) Cf. *' Nobody of any real culture ever talks nowadays about the 

beauty of a sunset. Sunsets are quite old-fashioned. They belong 

to the time when Turner was the last note in art.''— 7)5^ Decay of 

Lying. 

Page 51 

(4) This probably refers to * 'Japanese Girls on the Terrace" ; but 
Wilde could have found a number of equally good examples such as 
** La Princesse du Pays de la Porcelaine," **The Golden Screen," 
*'Die Lange Leizen— of the Six Marks," or ** Irving as Philip II 
of Spain," which was first exhibited eight years before this article. 

(5) Cf. *'Mr. Whistler made many beautiful studies of nude fig- 
ures, mostly with transparent draperies of brilliant colour, quite 
classical in character."— Chapter on Pastels, etc., The Art of James 
McNeill Whistler, by T. R. Way and G. R. Denni;;. 



202 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

(6) Cf. " It is the secret of much of the artificiality of modern art, 
this constant posing of pretty people, and v/hen art becomes artifi- 
cial, it becomes monotonous." — London Models, See page 99. 

Page 52 

(7) Cf. ** 'All right, sir,' said the professor of posing."— Z^wa'^w 
Models, See page 91. 

(8) Cf. London Models^ page 100. 

(9) This was one of Wilde's most cherished theories. In the 
letter entitled More Radical Ldeas Upon Dress Reforjji^ 1884, he 
writes : **The over-tunic should be made full and moderately loose; 
it may, if desired, be shaped more or less to the figure, but in no 
case should it be confined to the waist by any straight band or belt ; 
on the contrary, it should fall from the shoulder to the knee or below 
it, in fine curves and vertical lines, giving more freedom and conse- 
quently more grace." Cf. The Free7iian^s Journal (Dublin), 
Jan. 6, 1885. 

(10) Wilde's position is even more strongly defined in a Letter on 
Woman's Dress ^ 1884, in which he defends himself against a cor- 
respondent in The Pall Mall Gazette, who signs herself '*Girl Grad- 
uate " : ** All the most ungainly and uncomfortable articles of dress 
that fashion has ever in her folly prescribed, not the tight corset 
merely, but the farthingale, the vertugadin, the hoop, the crinoline, 
and that monstrosity, the so-called 'dress-improver' also— all of 
them have owed their origin to the same error, the error of not see- 
ing that it is from the shoulders only that garments should be hung." 

Page 53 

(11) Whistler's point of view, on the other hand, was : ''We are 
told that the Greeks were, as a people, worshippers of the beauti- 
ful, and that in the fifteenth century Art was engrained in the mul- 
titude . . . Listen! there was never an artistic period. There 
never was an Art-loving nation." — Whistler's ^^Ten O^Clock.''^ 

(12) Whistler's point of view was : " Why, after centuries of free- 
dom from Art, and indifference to it, should it now be thrust upon 
them (the people) by the blind— until wearied and puzzled, they 
know no longer how they shall eat or drink— how they shall sit or 
stand— or wherewithal they shall clothe themselves— without af- 



NOTES 203 

flicting An.'''— Whistler's ''Ten O' Clock.'' Cf. Introduction, 
page xxiii ; Decorative Art in America, page 13 ; and note to same, 
page 184. 

Page 54 
(13) Cf. ** My business as an artist was with Ariel. I set myself 
to wrestle with Cailban." — De Frofundis, {N. B. This is another 
instance of Wilde's repeated use of certain pairs of words.) 



NOTES FOR "THE TOMB OF KEATS" 

Page 56 

(1) This sonnet was first published in The Dramatic Review^ 
January 23, 1886, page 249. It was included by Mr. Alfred H. 
Miles in The Poets and the Poetry of the Century, Vol. VIII 
(1891-4), page 519, and will in all probability be contained in the 
revised edition of this series, bearing the imprint of George Rout- 
ledge & Sons and E. P. Button & Co., of which several volumes 
have already been issued. Mr. Thomas B. Mosher of Maine has 
printed it in a collected edition, The Poems of Oscar Wildey 1905; 
and quite recently (1906) it has reappeared in what practically con- 
stitutes a transcription of the Mosher edition, published by F. M. 
Buckles & Co., New York, in two volumes. 

Wilde, himself, never added any one of his later poems to his 
original book of Poems (18S1) ; and no edition revised by Wilde was 
issued after 1882. The limited Edition de Luxe, which was sold 
with the imprint of Elkin Mathews & John Lane in 1892, was no 
more than the remnant of David Bogue's last 1882 edition, with a 
special title-page by Charles Ricketts and a new cover, designed by 
him. 

(2) These were the love letters which Keats wrote to his fiancee, 
Fanny Brawne, from July i, 18 19, to some time early in August, 1820. 
Thirty-seven of them were published as Letters of John Keats to 
Fanny Brawne, with Notes by Harry Buxton Forman. London, 
1878. Mr. Forman included them with two letters acquired later 
(Letters III and XXXVI), in his four volume edition of The Poeti- 
cal Works and Other Writings of John Keats, 1883, Vol. IV, page 125- 
189 ; and more recently in The Letters of John Keats, 1895. Mr. For- 
man seems to think it necessary to justify his publication of these 
letters, for in his Preface to the last mentioned edition, page xvi, he 
writes: *^I still think Keats' letters without those to Fanny Brawne 
very much like Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark. When I 

205 



206 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

made up my mind, after weighing the whole matter carefully, to 
publish those letters in 1878, I was fully alive to the risk of vitu- 
peration, and not particularly solicitous on that branch of the sub- 
ject. [!] . . . The press turned out to be about equally divided 
on it. . . . Above all, the letters are irrevocably with us." Per- 
haps Mr. Forman made the above statement to fortify himself in the 
face of the implied criticism, contained in Sidney Colvin's Preface to 
Keats in the ** English Men of Letters " Series, 1887 : ** A biographer 
cannot ignore these letters now that they are published ; but their 
publication must be regretted by all who hold that human respect 
and delicacy are due to the dead no less than to the living, and to 
genius no less than obscurity."— Remark on Letters of J. K, to 
F. B. in Preface, page vi. 

Mr. Colvin omitted the letters from his own edition of the Letters 
of John Keats f published in 1 891. Fanny Brawne died in 1865 as 
Mrs. Lindon. 

(3) The letters were sold under the hammer at the rooms of 
Messrs. Sotheby on Monday, March 2, 1885. The following is a 
sample of England's commentary on the sale : *^The love letters 
of Keats are naturally somewhat monotonous in their sweet song 
of gushing affection to the young lady. . . . The sale was but 
thinly attended, but the prices obtained for the collection of Keats' 
letters were high throughout, not one selling for less than £^ 15s., 
the average being above £1^, several bringing ;^20, and the last 
two of the collection £7,^ and £Z9' In this last of three closely 
written 8vo. pages, he says : * The last two years taste like brass 
upon my palate. . . . Hamlet's heart was full of such misery 
as mine is, when he said to Ophelia, ** Go to a nunnery, go, go ! " ' 
[Letter XXXIX, the last, which Forman dates Kentish Town, 
August, 1820, beginning page 501 of the 1895 edition of The 
Letters."] The total realized on these love letters of Keats amounted 
to £^^^,''^ — London Times, March 4, 1885. See also New York 
Times, Sunday, March 22, 1885, page 4, cl. 4. 

(4) "And they crucified him, and parted his garments, casting 
lots." — St, Matthew, xxvii, 35. ** Then the soldiers, when they 
had crucified Jesus, took his garments, and made four parts, to 
every soldier a part ; and also his coat : now the coat was withou 
seam, woven from the top throughout. They said therefore among 



NOTES 207 

themselves, Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall 
be." — SL John, xix, 23-4. 

Wildes selection of the word dice in the place of lots illustrates 
the poet's fine word sense. Cf. Note 9. 

Page 57 

(5) This essay was printed in The Irish Monthly ; A Magazine of 
General Literature y Dublin, Fifth Yearly Volume, July, 1877, page 
476. It was written, it would seem, early in the spring of 1877, as 
we know Wilde to have been in Italy in March of that year (see 
London Models, Note 2, page 241). Wilde sent a number of poems 
to The Irish Monthly, this being, however, his only contribution in 
prose. In fact, with the exception of The Grosvenor Gallery, a 
critique which appeared in The Dublin University Magazine for 
the same month, no other prose of his appeared in book or periodi- 
cal MVitil V Envoi to Rose Leaf and AppleLeaf {?>tQ Note 30, page 179). 
The Lecture on the English Renaissance, it should be remembered, 
was an unauthorized version (see Note 2, page 181 fol.). One bit of 
art criticism appeared in Saundej's^ Irish Daily News, May 5, 1879. 

Remark. This essay has been taken out of the chronological order 
adhered to for the balance of the essays, letters, etc., comprising 
this volume, for the purpose of placing in juxtaposition Wilde's two 
references to Keats, and more especially to contrast his style and 
point of view at two different periods of his career : that of the 
lyric poet, which covered his earlier years up to 1881, and that of 
the art critic from 1885 to 1891. The years 1881-1885 formed a 
transition period, devoted largely to proposed reform in dress and 
handicraft, and an active campaign for the establishment of indus- 
trial art schools and the cultivation of taste in house-furnishing, co- 
mcident with the Morris movement. 

(6) Via Ostiensis is the old Roman road to Ostia, which at the 
time of the Republic and early Empire was a flourishing city and 
the harbour of Rome. Porta San Paolo, the ancient Porta Ostiensis, 
was one of the fifteen Gates in the Aurelian Walls, and is im- 
mediately east of the Pyramid of Cestius. 

C^) The Pyramid of Cestius, originally on the Via Ostiensis, but 
enclosed by Aurelian within the city walls, is the tomb of Caius 



208 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Cestius Epulo, who is known to have died before B.C. I2. The 
pyramid is Ii6 feet high and composed of concrete, overlaid with 
slabs of marble. 

(8) Modern Rome has nine obelisks of varying size at the follow- 
ing locations : (i) Piazza del Popolo; (2) The Pincio; (3) Piazza 
della Trinita; (4) Piazza del Quirinale; (5) Piazza delF Esquilino; 
(6) Piazza Colonna— 84 ft. high; (7) Piazza della Minerva — very 
small; (8) Piazza di San Giovanni in Laterano — 105 ft. high; (9) 
Piazza di San Pietro. 

(9) * * And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a 
cloud, to lead them the way ; and by night in a pillar of fire, to 
give them light." — Exodus, xii, 21. Wilde frequently reverts to 
this metaphor, as in English Poetesses ^ page 74: '* Sappho, who, to 
the antique world, was a pillar of flame." Quite characteristic is 
his substitution of flame for fire, as being more euphonious and 
hence, according to his theory, not only justifiable but correct. Cf. 
Note 4. 

Page 58 

(10) This is the old burjring-ground, no longer in use. From the 
outer edge of the moat may be seen the grave of Keats. In what is 
now the New Protestant cemetery, was placed the heart [!] of 
Shelley (see Note 22, page 212 fol.) ; and John Addington Symonds 
was buried there in 1893. The old cemetery is sadly in need of re- 
pairs ; walls have been torn down, and its general condition is deplor- 
able (see Note 16, page 210). Next to the grave of Keats is that of 
his ever faithful friend Joseph Severn, in whose arms he expired. It 
was through Severn that the present tombstone with the lyre was 
placed over Keats, and in 1882 Severn's own body was reinterred 
in the present plot of ground, over which was set a mate to the 
stone over the poet's grave. Some idea of the general appearance 
of the cemetery and graves may be obtained by referring to the 
illustrations in The Gj'aves of Keats and Severn. The Century 
Magazine, No. 4, February, 1884, Vol. XXVII^ page 603, and Keats 
in Hampstead^ ibid., No. 6, October, 1895, ^o^- L, page 898. See 
also **The Burial-place of Keats," etched by Arthur Evershed from 
a drawing by Samuel Palmer, a rather crude etching which appears 



NOTES 209 

at page 106, Vol. I, of H. Buxton Forman's edition of The Poetical 
Works and Other Writings of John Keats ^ 1883. 

(11) " February 14, [1821] : Among the many things he has re- 
quested of me to-night, this is the principal, that on his grave shall 

be this : 

* Here lies one whose name was writ in water/ " 

— Joseph Severn'' s Account of the Last Days of Keats, 

See H. Buxton Forman's 1883 edition of Keats' Works, Vol. IV, 

page 212. 

(12) Cf. 

** Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
We write in water." 

—King He7iry VJIJ, Act IV, Scene 2. 

" All your better deeds 
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble." 

— Philaster^ Act V, Scene 3. 
Beaumont and Fletcher. 

On these lines Shelley began the following lovely sonnet : 

Fragment On Keats, 
Who Desired That On His Tomb Should Be Inscribed :— 
** * Here lieth One whose name was writ on water.' 
But ere the breath that could erase it blew, 
Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter. 
Death, the immortalizing winter, flew 
Athwart the stream, — and time's printless torrent grew 
A scroll of crystal, blazoning the name 
Of Adonais." — 

In The Century Magazine, February, 1906, page 611, are some 
more exquisite verses on this theme, The N'aine Writ in Water 
{Piazza di Spagna, Pome), by Robert Underwood Johnson. It is 
the ** Spirit of the Fountain" which speaks, and the Spirit's last 
words are : 

" Little he knew 'twixt his dreaming and sleeping. 
The while his sick fancy despaired of his fame. 
What glory I held in my loverly keeping : 
Listen ! my waters still whisper his name." 

(13) ** Keats was buried in the Protestant cemetery at Rome, one 
of the most beautiful spots, etc. (as quoted by Wilde). In one of 
those mental voyages into the past, which often precede death, Keats 



2IO DECORATIVE ART IIS AMERICA 

told Severn that ' he thought the intensest pleasure, etc. ' (as quoted 
by Wilde) : . . . and another time, after lying a while, still and 
peaceful, he said, * I feel the flowers growing over me.' And there 
they do grow, even all the winter long— violets and daisies mingling 
with the fresh herbage, and, in the words of Shelley * making one in 
love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a 
place/ " — Life and Letters of John Keats ^ by Lord Houghton, 1848. 
Wilde seems to have borrowed a little too freely, if anything, 
from Lord Houghton's account. Wilde's paragraph is to all in- 
tents and purposes a paraphrase of the above extract. See the two 
following notes. 

Page 59 

(14) The following is what Shelley actually did write in his 
Preface to A donais: **It might make one in love with death, to 
think that one should be buried in so sweet a place." 

(1^) In a letter which Keats wrote to his friend, James Rice, on 
February 16, 1820, he expresses this same love for flowers, which 
he dwelt on so often during his last days : ** How astonishingly 
does the chance of leaving the world impress a sense of its natural 
beauties on me! ... I muse with the greatest affection on 
every flower I have known from my infancy — their shapes and 
colours are as new to me as if I had just created them with a super- 
human fancy. It is because they are connected with the most 
thoughtless and the happiest moments of our lives." 

(1^) It is welcome news to every lover of poetry as well as to 
every admirer of Keats, that a movement long on foot to establish 
a Keats-Shelley Memorial in Rome promises to have a successful 
issue. Though it does not have in view a monument of the type 
conceived by Wilde, it has an object which is much finer and more 
praiseworthy, in that it concerns the purchase of the house in 
which Keats breathed his last, in order that it may become the 
welcome Mecca of all students of the Poet. Now that the great- 
hearted of America and England are joining in this Memorial, which 
has the approval and support of the Kings of England and of 
Italy, President Roosevelt and Sir Rennell Rodd, there is every 
reason to believe that not only will the house on Piazza di Spagna 
be saved to us for all time, but that the lovely cemetery which holds 



NOTES 211 

the grave of Adonais, will be spared further indignities and restored 
to a state of beauty worthy of the several great men who have made 
its name immortal. 

(17) In 1875, a committee of Englishmen and Americans, 
headed by Sir Vincent Eyre, provided for the repair of the tomb- 
stone, and placed on an adjacent wall a medallion portrait of the 
poet, presented by its sculptor, Mr. Warrington Wood. The lines 
of poetry are an acrostic written by the head of the committee. 

(18) The lady in question was Mrs. Procter, to whose descrip- 
tion Wilde refers in Keats* Sonnet on Blue, page 69. Lord Houghton 
quotes her in his Life, Letters and Literary Remains of John Keats, 
See Note 18, page 225. 

Page 60 

(19) The Sphinx seems to have cast a spell over Wilde, perhaps 
a baleful one ; for there is the ring of truth in his cry in The 
Sphinx, his one curiously repulsive poem : 

** Get hence, you loathsome mystery! Hideous animal, get hence! 
You wake in me each bestial sense, you make me what I would not be." 

At any rate, he continually used the word in simile and in descrip- 
tion, both to lend colour to his language and suggestiveness to his 
subject. We have his long poem, just alluded to, written in Paris 
as early as 1883, and finally published in 1894, with strange 
Egyptic illustrations from the hand of Ricketts. Here, in the sixth 
verse, we have apparently the key of his theme : 

" Come forth you exquisite grotesque ! half woman and kalf animal ! ** 

In The Happy Prince (1888), page 18, the word is used for its 
suggestion of Eastern mystery: ** He told him of the Sphinx, who 
is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows 
everything." 

In The Grave of Shelley (1877 and 1881), in connection with the 
pyramid (of Cestius), the allusion has the same object : 

** Surely some Old-World Sphinx lurks darkly hid 
Grim warder of this pleasaunce of the dead." 

In A Woman of No Importance (1894), as a figure of speech: 
** Women as a sex are Sphinxes without secrets." 



212 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Practically the same epigram had seen service in his story, Lady 
Alroy, The World (London), May 25th, 1887, and so great was 
its fascination for him, that he elevated it to the dignity of title for 
the same story, since it was included as The Sphinx Without a 
Secret, in Lord Arthur Savile^s Crime and Other Stories (1891). 
The titles of the other three tales were not altered. 

Again in The Decay of Lying (1889), the word appears as: 
**The solid, stolid British intellect lies in the desert sands like 
the Sphinx in Flaubert's marvelous tale." 

In 1896, from Reading Gaol in a letter to Robert Ross: *' The 
• gilded sphinx' is, I suppose: as wonderful as ever." 

And three years later, in 1899, he inscribed the following senti- 
ment in a presentation copy of The Importance of Being Earnest: 
**To the wonderful Sphinx: to whose presence on the first night 
the success of this comedy was entirely due," etc. 

Furthermore, improbable as it may seem, Wilde appears not 
only to allude to the Sphinx when he mentions Egypt, but to men- 
tion Egypt only that he may allude to the Sphinx. 

(20) Monte Testaccio is an isolated mound some one hundred 
and fifteen feet high and about a thousand paces in circumference, 
which rises above the Tiber. It was formed of broken pottery, 
large earthen jars (testae), brought principally from Spain and 
Africa. 

(21) This simile seems to have lingered in his mind, as it occurs 
again in a sonnet written at about the same period : 

** Like burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed 
Gaunt cypress-trees stand around the sun-bleached stone.** 

— The Grave of Shelley, 

And a number of years later it recurs in the following: "The 
cypress-trees were like burnt-out torches." — The Fisherman and 
His Soul. 1 89 1. 

Certain similar catch-phrases, couplets, etc., were thus employed 
by Wilde a number of times, in the same manner that Shelley 
made use at least three times of the ** phenomenon " which he 
notes at the end of the third stanza of his Ode to the West Wind, 
See also Notes 24 and 29, pages 214 and 217 ; and Phrases in Index. 

(22) Shelley was drowned in the Gulf of Spezia, in July, 1822. 



NOTES 213 

Several days after the recovery of his body, it was cremated in the 
presence of Byron, Leigh Hunt and Trelawny. ** What surprised 
us all was that the heart remained entire. In snatching this relic 
away from the fiery furnace, my hand was severely burnt." — 
Trelawny's Recollections of Sheelly, 

*' Shelley's heart was given to Hunt, who subsequently, not 
without reluctance and unseemly dispute, resigned it to Mrs. Shel- 
ley. It is now at Boscombe. His ashes were carried by Trelawny 
to Rome and buried in the Protestant cemetery."— 6*/^^//^/ by 
John Addington Symonds in "English Men of Letters," page 181. 

Trelawny's inscription on the tombstone reads as follows : 

** Percy Bysshe Shelley 
Ccr cordium 
Natus, etc. . , . ** 

An illustration of Shelley's grave may be found in the etching by 
W. B. Scott, which appears as frontispiece to Vol. II of Poetical 
Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley ^ etc., edited by H. Buxton Forman, 
1886. The apparently general belief that it is Shelley's actual heart 
which is buried in Rome, and the statement made by J. A. Symonds 
and other authorities that the heart is in England and the ashes in 
Rome, are difficult to reconcile. 

It is unfortunate that the great cannot write their own death 
notices. Their friends always disagree. For instance, the sev- 
eral accounts, which have been written of the last hours, the funeral, 
etc., of Oscar Wilde, differ in almost every important detail. 

(23) The ** St. Sebastian " of Guido Reni is in Room VI of Palazzo 
Brignole Sale, also called Palazzo Rosso, No. 18, Strada Nuova. 

It should be recalled that St. Sebastian was one of Wilde's 
favorite characters, and that he, himself, borrowed the name of 
Sebastian as the first part of the nom de plume which he adopted 
after his release from Reading Gaol. He not only appears to have 
delighted in the sound of the name, and the martyrdom which it 
connotes, but shows by the following lines that he found in the con- 
vict's dress certain features suggestive of this saint : 

** Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb 
With crooked arrows starred." 

— The Ballad of Reading Gaoly Canto IV, Verse 7. 



214 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

From the arrow-starred victim of Individualism rampant to the 
martyred saint was but a short step for the lover of curious paradox. 

The Rev. Charles Robert Maturin (1782 -1824), that eccentric 
novelist, dramatist and display-loving poseur whom Wilde calls his 
grand-uncle, and whom he resembled in more ways than one, wrote 
in 1820 his masterpiece, Melmoth the Wanderer. This book 
greatly interested Wilde— in fact it has been suggested that the 
anonymous introduction to the edition of 1892 might be traced to 
his pen. The book was certainly recalled to him during his im- 
prisonment, as in a letter to Ross at that period he mentions his 
interest *in seeing how his grand-uncle's Melmoth and his mother's 
Sidonia had been two of the books that fascinated Rossetti's 
youth ! ' 

Sebastian Melmoth: the martyr and the wanderer! Here perhaps 
is found Wilde's honest opinion of himself! 

Remark. M. Henry-D. Davray, the translator into French of 
De Profundis, has recently stated as a fact the conclusions that are 
deduced from the theory given above. Whether M. Davray received 
his information direct from Wilde or from some friend of Wilde, or 
has been led to this belief through a similar process of deduction, 
remains for him to state. 

(24) This group of words or the idea which it conveys, was 
used again in several different combinations. It is found in his 
sonnet. Wasted Days {From a Picture Painted by Miss V, T.), 
Kottabos, Vol. Ill, Michaelmas Term, 1877, beginning: 

" A fair slim boy not made for this world's pain. 
With hair of gold thick clustering round his ears," 

and in a later version of the same, greatly altered as Madonna Mia 
(in all editions of Poems') : 

" A Lily-Girl, not made for this world's pain, 
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears," 

and again in London Models^ 1889: " He is often quite charming 
with his large melancholy eyes, his crisp hair, and his slim brown 
figure." (Seepage 95.) 

(25) A recent number of The Century Magazine (No. 4, Febru- 
ary, 1906, Vol. LXXI, page 535), contains a very interesting illus- 
trated article by the late William Sharp, entitled The Portraits of 



NOTES 21 S 

KeatSy With Special Reference to Those by Severn, In this article 
are included the original miniature by Joseph Severn, the George 
Keats replica, the Haydon sketch and life-mask, the Hilton oil 
painting, the Girometti medallion, several of the better know^n 
sketches and paintings by Severn, together with interesting allusions 
to the many replicas genuine and unauthentic. Refer also to Keats 
in Hampstead. The Century^ No. 6, October, 1895, Vol. L, page 
898, which illustrates a bust of Keats by Anne Whitney, placed in 
the Parish Church of St. John's, Hampstead, in 1894. See Note on 
the Portraits of Keats, Vol. I, page xxxiii, of H. Buxton Forman's 
1883 edition of Keats* works. In this note and throughout the 
four volumes, are given illustrations of the more famous portraits. 
A chalk drawing by William Hilton, R.A., not included in The 
Century y is of interest. A beautiful reproduction of a portrait by 
Severn, done from all appearances in chalk, serves as frontispiece 
to Odes^ Sonnets 6^ Lyrics of John Keats^ published in a very 
limited edition by the Daniel Press, Oxford. The publisher re- 
marks that the drawing is in the possession of Mrs. Furneaux, and 
*' has never until now been copied." This portrait does not seem to be 
generally known and deserves attention as a very lovely picture, 
even if it may not be the ** trustworthy likeness " which Mr. 
Daniel claims. It is certainly as close a resemblance as the pain- 
ful caricature which disfigures the Cambridge Edition of the poet's 
works. See Note 21, page 226, for a special reference to Joseph 
Severn. 

(26) The Haydon pen and ink sketch is the one which B. R. 
Haydon made in his MS. Journal for November, 1816, shortly 
after his meeting with Keats. This is generally conceded to be the 
first portrait of Keats which has been left to us. **This fine 
profile head was a sketch for the portrait of Keats introduced by 
Haydon into his large picture of 'Christ's Entry into Jerusalem,' 
now in St. Peter's Cathedral at Cincinnati." — The Portraits of Keats, 
by William Sharp. See preceding Note, 25. 

(27) This is a bust by the American, Fuller, forming part of a 
monument erected in memory of the Rajah of Koolapoor (Kola- 
poor, Kohlapore), who died in Florence in 1870. The monument 
is in the Cascine, the park of Florence, some two miles from its 
entrance. 



2l6 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Page 6i 

(28) After considerable revision in the sestet, this sonnet was re- 
published as The Grave of Keats in The Burlington, No. i, Janu- 
ary, i88i, page 35. It was included in Poems, 1881 (July) and all 
later editions ; and was reprinted in The Best of Oscar Wilde, col- 
lected by Oscar Herrmann (New York) ; Every Day in the Year, 
edited by Jas. L. and Mary K. Ford (New York) ; Golden Gleams 
of Thought, edited by Rev. S. P. Linn (Chicago) ; with an extract 
in The Poets'^ Praise, collected by Estelle D. Adams (London). 

Wilde was the most painstaking of poets despite his affected care- 
lessness and indifference. His scholarship is clearly proven by the 
neatly annotated copies of Herodotus, Sallust, Cice7V, etc., used by 
him at Oxford. Hardly one of his poems which appeared in The Irish 
Monthly, Kottabos, The World, Time, etc., was republished in the 
collected edition, without some change. The fifth edition of Poems 
shows differences of text, which seem hardly important enough to 
have warranted alteration, in some twenty separate instances. This 
habit of careful revision never left him ; for all the plays were re- 
vised for publication ; the second edition of The Ballad of Reading 
Gaol shows by collation some ten new readings ; and later editions 
show three further variants of the second. As an illustration of 
this point, may be told an anecdote recounted by Mr. Sherard in 
Oscar Wilde. The Story of an Unhappy Friendship : During 
"Wilde's trip in America, he had occasion to tell his **host one 
evening that he had spent the day in hard literary work, and when 
asked what he had done, he had said : ' I was working on the 
proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma.' 
* And in the afternoon ? ' * In the afternoon— well, I put it back 
again.' " 

To show the development of this sonnet to its final form it is now 
given in full as 

THE GRAVE OF KEATS. 

Rid of the world's injustice, and his pain, 
He rests at last beneath God's veil of blue ; 
Taken from life when life and love were new 
The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, 
Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain. 



NOTES 217 

No cypress shades his grave, no funeral yew, 

But gentle violets weejfing with the dew 

Weave on his bones an ever-blossoming chain. 

O proudest heart that broke for misery ! 

O sweetest lips sitice those o/Mityle?ie f 

O poet-painter of our English Land ! 

Thy name was writ in water — // shall stand : 

And tears like wzVz<? ivill keep thy memory green. 

As Isabella did her Basil-tree. 

The changes in the text are indicated in italics. 

(29) The larger part of this line and the whole of the third line 
were used afterwards in Ravenna, III, 11. 7-8 : 

" Taken from life while life and love were new, 
He lies beneath God's seamless veil of blue." 

Ravenna was the Newdigate Prize Poem in heroic couplets, 
which Wilde recited in the Theatre at Oxford, June 26, 1878. It 
was published subsequently by Thomas Shrimpton and Son, Broad 
Street, Oxford, 1878. See Notes for ''London Models,''^ Note 2, 
page 241. 

(30) The allusion is obviously to Keats' Isabella; or, The Pot of 
Basil, A Story f'om Boccaccio, Stanza LI I, 11. 7-8: 

" and o'er it set 
Sweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet." 

This incident in the words of John Payne's translation from 
Boccaccio's Story of Isabella (II Decamerone, Giornata IV, No- 
vella 5) runs as follows : ** She had not dug long before she came 
upon her unhappy lover's body . . . ; she would fain, an she but 
might, have borne away the whole body, to give it fitter burial ; but 
seeing that this might not be, she with a knife cut off the head, as 
best she could. . . . Then, taking a great and goodly pot, of those 
wherein they plant marjoram or sweet basil, she laid therein the 
head, folded in a fair linen cloth, and covered it up with earth, in 
which she planted sundry heads of right fair basil of Salerno ; nor 
did she ever water these with other water than that of her 
tears. . . . She would bend over it and fall to weeping so sore 
and so long, that her tears bathed the basil, which, by dint of 
such long and assiduous tending, . . . grew passing fair and sweet 
of savour." 



NOTES FOR « KEATS' SONNET ON BLUE » 

Page 65 

(1) This article was contributed to The Century Guild Hobby 
Horsey No. 3, July, 1886, Volume I, page {81) Z2>' This quarterly 
was a magazine de luxe {i2j4" xg}^"), which was published at the 
Chiswick Press from January, 1886, through October, 1892 — 
twenty-eight beautiful numbers in all. In April, 1884, a single 
number (11^' x 9"), with the same title and woodcut for the cover, 
was published under the imprint of G. Allen. This first issue, how- 
ever, was quickly withdrawn by the publisher, so that few copies 
of it are in circulation. 

(2) Wilde's Western tour brought him to Louisville some time 
in February, 1882, probably at a date between the 15th and the 
23rd. 

(3) Mrs. Philip Speed (Emma Keats) died in the month of Sep- 
tember, 1883. '* It may be added that the mask [Haydon's life- 
mask] of Keats bears a striking resemblance to one of Keats' rela- 
tives now living in America, and that it especially recalls the fea- 
tures of his niece, Mrs. Emma Keats Speed, of Louisville, Ken- 
tucky."— Statement by the Editor. TAe Century ^ No. 4, February, 
Volume XXVII, 1884, page 603. 

(*) George Keats (1797- 1842), the brother of the poet, im- 
migrated to America in the spring of 18 18, shortly after his 
marriage to Georgiana Augusta Wylie. He went ostensibly to 
better his fortunes, with the hope of assisting his brother financially. 
He has had many detractors, however, who censured him for his 
money dealings with the poet. Charles Brown was especially bit- 
ter in his denunciations of him and was prevented by him from 
carrying out his proposed biography of Keats. George visited 
his brother in England during the winter of 1819-20. 

After having tried his hand at several trades, he went into the 
lumber business and died a wealthy man and one of the best known 
citizens of Louisville. '* George Keats not only loved his brother 

219 



220 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

John but reverenced his genius and enjoyed his poetry, believing 
him to belong to the front rank of English bards." — Memoir of 
George KeatSy by J. F. C. (The Rev. James Freeman Clark), The 
Dial, April, 1843. 

(5) Mr. John Gilmer Speed, son of the lady whom Wilde met, 
edited The Letters and Poems of John Keats , in 3 vols., New York, 

1883. 

(6) Wilde seems to have made some error here, unless it be 
possible that such an annotated edition of Dante has escaped the 
notice of the many editors of Keats' work. W^ilde probably had in 
mind the copy of Milton in which Keats v/rote his comments on 
Paradise Lost, Part of these appeared in The Dial, April, 1843. 
See also The Athenceum, October 26, 1872, and Notes on Milton'' s 
^* Paradise Lost,'''' page 256, Vol. Ill of H. Buxton Forman's Glasgow 
edition of Keats' works, 1901. Keats was, however, an ardent 
admirer of Dante, to whom he was introduced in Gary's translation. 
In a copy of this he wrote his sonnet On a Dream, 

Page 66 

(7) A facsimile of the manuscript preceded Wilde's essay, page 81. 
It does not appear to be a very good reproduction, though it is con- 
ceivable that the ink of the original had faded (Wilde speaks of 
** faded scraps of paper," etc.), making it difficult of reproduction. 
Mr. H. Buxton Forman, the authority on Keats, refers to it in the 
following terms in Poetry and Prose by John Keats, A Book of 
Fresh Verses and New Readings, etc, London, 1890, page 25 : 

'* A manuscript of the Sonnet on blue, written in answer to one of 
Reynolds' on dark eyes, found its way to America; and a so-called 
facsimile of it, now shorn of its first line, appeared in The Century 
Guild Hobby Horse for July, 1886. Line 6 and those following 
seem to have exercised the poet a good deal. Mr. Horwood's 
variation is not shown by this copy ; but, as far as The Hobby 
Horse reproduction is legible, the intentions seem to have been as 
follows : " 

Since Mr. Forman's transcription does not appear to embrace all 
the variants which occur in this version, and a single capital be- 



NOTES 221 

comes of interest, when collation extends to such minutiae, a more 
detailed transcript of the thirteen lines in the facsimile is given 
below : 

LI. I [Torn from MS.] 

2. Of Cynthia, the Wide Palace of the sun 

3. The tent of Hesperus and all his train 

4. The Bosomer of Clouds gold, grey and dun 

5. Blue 't is the Life of Waters — Ocean 

Waterfalls ) 

his Pools numberless > 

6. And all vassal Streams ; Lakes, Pools and Seas S 

A 
C J. A nd Waterfalls and Fountams never ran 
< ivelVd 

( 8. Or flow' d or slef t but still 

7. May rage and foam and fret but never can 

8. Subside but to a dark blue Nativeness 

9. Blue ! gentle Cousin to the forest green 

10. Married to green in all the sweetest flowers 

th Forget me not 

11. The Violet the Bluebell and that Queen 

A 

Secrecy 

12. Of Hiddenness ^the Violet. What strange powers 

But how great ") 

13. Hast thou as a mere Shadow? then how high 3 

When an 

14. Trembling in eye thou art alive with fate - 

A 

Note, The carets occur where shown ; the italicized words are 
crossed in the MS., but appear in the same relative position. 

(8) Lord Houghton (1809-85), Richard Monckton IMilnes, 
traveller, philanthropist, unrivalled after-dinner speaker, poet and 
Maecenas of poets. He obtained the laureateship for Tennyson and 
was among the first to recognize Mr. Swinburne. Among his works 
are Poems ^ Legendary and Historical (1844) ; Palm Leaves (1844) ; 
and most important of all The Life, Letters and Literary Remains 
of John Keats (1848), 2 vols. 

(9) Charles Armitage Brown (i786-<r.i842), a retired mer- 
chant, when he met Keats at Hampstead. He accompanied the 
poet on his **tourtothe Hebrides," July-August, 18 18, and took him 
into his home after the death of Keats' brother in December, 
1818. He was the poet's warm friend and adviser, and after his 



222 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

death went to Italy, where he became acquainted with Trelawny 
and Landor. At the villa of the latter, he met Lord Houghton and 
when finally he decided to give up his idea of a biography of Keats 
and to emigrate to New Zealand, he placed in Lord Houghton's 
hands all the material he had collected for this purpose. 

The so-called Houghton MSS. from which was compiled The 
Lifey Letters i etc., consist of Brown's manuscript memoir, trans- 
cripts made by him of a few of Keats' poems, reminiscences by 
Charles Cowden Clarke, Henry Stephens, Joseph Severn and other 
intimates of Keats, as well as letters from the above. 

Page 67 

(10) This sonnet appears, Vol. II, page 295 of The Life, Letters 
and Literary Remains of John Keats , by Lord Houghton (1848). 

(11) The sestet of Reynolds' sonnet reads as follows : 

" The golden clusters of enamouring hair 
Glow 'd in poetic pictures sweetly well ; — 
Why should not tresses dusk, that are so fair 
On the Uve brow, have an eternal spell 
In poesy ? — dark eyes are dearer far 
Than orbs that mock the hyacinthine-bell.'* 

(12) John Hamilton Reynolds (l 796-1852), poet and friend 
of Keats. Author of Safie, an Eastern Tale (1814) ; The Eden of 
Imagination (1814) ; The Naiad (18 16). In the first and last of 
these he shows the influence of Byron; in the second that of 
Leigh Hunt, through whom it is probable that he met Keats. Be- 
fore the completion of Endymion, Keats projected a series of 
metrical versions of Boccaccio's tales with Reynolds, his own con- 
tribution to be Isabella, and Reynolds', The Garden of Florence, 
The last was eventually published together with The Ladye of 
Provence in 1821, over the pseudonym **John Hamilton." In 
the meantime Reynolds had produced in 18 19 a farce entitled One, 
Two, Three, Four, Five, and parodies of Wordsworth, entitled 
Peter Bell, Keats' letters to Reynolds are noteworthy as being 
among his most unreserved and interesting. (See also Note 14.) 

(13) ** Woodhouse's transcript of the sonnet corresponds verbally 
with the text of this edition [the residuum of Wilde's facsimile] : 



NOTES 223 

he gives the date as the 8th of February, iSiS,** — Poetry and Prose 
by John Keats, Edited by H. Buxton Forman, 1890, page 26. 

** The Woodhouse MSS. consist of a commonplace book in which 
Richard Woodhouse, the friend of Keats, transcribed about mid- 
summer, 18 1 9, the chief part of Keats' poems at that date unpublished. 
The transcripts are in many cases made from early drafts of the 
poems." — Preface to Keats by Sidney Colvin, page vii. 

(14) See A Sonnet by Keats ^ in The AthencBum^ No. 2536, June 
3, 1876, page 764. Mr. Horwood's article is sufficiently interesting 
to warrant a full quotation, and though the verbal changes in 
the sonnet are all pointed out by Wilde, it is given in full, to illus- 
trate the curious variations in punctuation and capitalization, which 
characterize the several versions of many of Keats' poems. 

**In 1821, John Hamilton Reynolds, the friend of Keats, pub- 
lished a volume of poems with the title, * The Garden of Florence 
and other Poems, by John Hamilton.' At pages 124 and 126 are 
two sonnets on Sherwood Forest ; and a manuscript note in my copy 
says, that * It was in answer to these two sonnets that Keats sent 
the author the lines on Robin Hood, which are published with his 
Lamia f etc' At page 128 is a sonnet ending with an expression of 
preference of dark eyes to blue eyes. Appended to this is a manu- 
script addition (made evidently not long after the volume was 
printed), of which the following is a copy: 'Keats, upon reading 
the above sonnet, immediately expressed his own preference for blue 
eyes in the following lines : 

*[L1.] 1. Blue! 'tis the hue of heaven — the domain 

2. Of Cynthia, — ^"the bright palace of the sun, 

3. The tent of Hesperus and all his train, 

4. The bosomer of clouds, gold, grey, and dun. 

5. Blue ! 't is the life of waters : — Ocean, 

6. With all his tributary streams, pools numberless, 

7. May rage and foam and fret ; but never can 

8. Subside, if not to dark blue nativeness. 

9. Blue ! gentle cousin to the forest green ; 

10. Married to green in all the sweetest flowers, — 

11. Forget-me-not; the Blue-bell ; and that Queen 

12. Of secrecy, the Violet.— What strange powers 

13. Hast thou, as a mere shadow : — but how great 

14. When in an eye thou art, alive with fate ! ' 



224 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

I do not find this sonnet in any of several editions of Keats' poems 
which I have, nor is it mentioned in Lord Houghton's Life of Keats, 

A. J. Horwood." 
Mr. Horwood no doubt had the revised edition of Lord Hough- 
ton's Life of Keats published in 1867. 



Page 68 

(15) <* These strike me as decidedly genuine variations, but indica- 
tive of an earlier state of the poem than that adopted in the text." 
— The Poetical Works, etc,, of John Keats, Edited by H. Buxton 
Forman, 1883. Vol. II, pages 257-8. 

(16) Mr. Forman makes further comment (see Note 7, page 220) 
on this subject in The Complete Works of John Keats, Glasgow, 
1901, Vol. II, pages 198-9, and offers the following objection : ** The 
scholiast of the Hobby Horse * fac-simile ' demurred to my ac- 
ceptance of The Athenceum variant of line 6 as genuine, on the 
ground that we * have before us Keats ' \sic'\ first draft of the 
sonnet,' and that, ^ having got his line right in his first draft, Keats 
probably did not spoil it in his second.' This reasoning assumes 
the Hobby Horse draft to be the first and ignores the probability 
that, as in other cases, there were scrappy pencillings, any of which 
might have passed into another version written out at a different 
time." 

(17) << The punctuation of The AthencEum version is characteristic 
of Keats, and I have adopted it in part.'' — The Poetical Works, etc, 
1883. Edited by H. Buxton Forman, Vol. II, page 258. On the 
preceding page is the sonnet, the title reading : 

SONNET. 

Written in answer to a Sonnet ending thus : — 

Dark eyes are dearer far 

Than those that mock the hvacinthine bell. 

By J. H. Reynolds, 

In collating Mr. Forman's version with those of Lord Houghton 
(i) and The Athenceum (2), the following variations are disclosed; 



NOTES 225 

LI. 1-4 follow the text and punctuation of (i), adding a comma 

after *' Hesperus," 1. 3. 
L. 5 follows the text and punctuation of (2), but begins <* 't is" 

with a capital. 
" 6 follows the text of (i) and punctuation of (2). 
** 7 ** * ** and punctuation of (i). 

€( g << (( (t «< it t( a (2). 

** 9 reads: **Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green." 

'* 10 follows the text and punctuation of (2). 

" II ** ** *• of (2) and punctuation of (i), but omits 
hyphen in Blue-bell. 

** 12 follows the text and punctuation of (i), but begins ** vio- 
let " with a capital. 

** 13 follows the text and punctuation of (i). 

** 14 follows the text of (i) and punctuation of (2). 

The current Cambridge Edition of Keats, edited by Horace E. 
Skidder and published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., has this sonnet 
on page 43, and seems to borrow its punctuation and capitalization 
from both the Houghton and Forman texts, thereby forming an- 
other variant — et sic ad inf. 

Page 69 

(18) <«At page 100, Vol. I, of his first Life of Keats y Lord Houghton 
has quoted a literary portrait which he received from a lady [Mrs. 
Procter. See Note 18, page 211] who used to see him at Hazlitt's lec- 
tures at the Surrey Institution [probably during 1817-1818] . . , 
* His eyes were large and bluey and his hair auburn,^ . . . Reader, 
alter in your copy of the Life of Keats y Vol. I, page 103, *eyes ' light 
hazel, * hair ' lightish brown and wavy." — Recollections of Charles 
Cow den Clarke, 

Yet only a few pages before, Clarke writes; **John was the 
only one resembling him (his father) in person and feature, with 
brown hair and dark hazel eyes." 

** The eyes mellow and glowing ; large, dark and sensitive."— Z^r^ 
Byron and Some of his Contemporaries, etc., by Leigh Hunt, 1828. 
'* At one of our visits, Mr. Severn maintained that Keats' eyes were 



226 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

hazel." The Graves of Keats and Severn, Editor of The Century^ 
No. 4, February, 1884, Vol. XXVII, page 603. 

In this connection, curiously enough a similar confusion exists 
concerning the colour of Wilde's eyes : 

*• His eyes are blue, or light grey, and instead of being * dreamy* 
are bright and quick." — Oscar Wilde's Arrival. New -York Daily 
Tribune^ Jan. 3, 1882, page 5, cl. 4. 

** His eyes were of a deep blue, but without that far-away ex- 
pression which is popularly attributed to them." — Oscar Wilde'' s 
Arrival, The New York World, Jan. 3, 1882, page i, cl. 4. 

*' The eyes were large, dark and ever-changing in expression."— 
The Lady^s Pictorial. 1882. 

'* La pure lumiere bleue, un peu enfantine, de son regard."— 
Oscar Wilde et son ceuvre^ by J. -Joseph Renaud. La Grande 
Revue, 15 Fevrier, 1905, page 401 ; also in his preiaiCe to Intentions. 
Paris : P.-V. Stock, 1905. 

Lord Alfred Douglas, on the other hand, affirms that Wilde's 
eyes were green. Therefore, according to his friends and inter- 
viewers, his eyes were deep blue, light grey, dark, or green. 

(19) Charles Cowden Clarke (1787- 1877), warm friend of Keats, 
co-author of Recollections (see following note) : also of Note on the 
School-House of Keats at Enfield. The St. James^ s Holiday Annual, 

** You first taught me all the sweets of song." 

Keats' Epistle to Charles Cowden Clarke, 1. 53. 

(20) Recollections of Writers by Charles and Mary Cowden Clarke, 
1878, as reprinted, with slight changes, from The Gentleman' s 
Magazine, February, 1874. 

(21) Joseph Severn (1793- 1879), the ardent and faithful friend 
of Keats until his death, and faithful to Keats' memory through the 
remainder of his own long life. It is to Severn that we owe our 
knowledge of Keats' last days at the house on the Piazza di Spagna 
— those bitter hours made so real by the painter's sketch of Keats 
during his last illness (see Century Magazine, February, 1906, page 
545). If not a great painter, he was a great friend, whose name 
can no more be disassociated from that of the poet than the tomb- 
stone with the palette be removed from the stone with the lyre ; 



NOTES 227 

for in 1882 Severn's body was placed by the side of Keats' in the 
Protestantcemetery at Rome. See Note 10, page 208 ; Note 11, page 
209; Note 13, page 210; or for special reference to Severn's 
portraits of Keats, Note 25, page 214. 

(22) This is line 5 of the Sonnet, To My Brother George, origi- 
nally published as the first poem under the general title of Sonnets 
in Poems by John Keats^ London : Printed for C. & J. Oilier, 
etc., 1817. 



NOTES FOR "ENGLISH POETESSES" 

Page 73 

(1) This essay originally appeared in Queen^ The Ladfs News- 
paper, No. 2189, December 8, 1888, Vol. LXXXIV. 

(2) Cf. **Mrs. Browning, the first really great poetess of our 
literature." — Literary and Other Notes. The Woman'' s World, No- 
vember, \%%*], ox Essay Sy Criticisms and Reviews, page 115. See 
also Note 13, page 230. 

(3) The New Year hymn no doubt refers to Old and New Year 
Ditties, published in Goblin Market and Other Poems (1864). 
In a letter which Dante Gabriel Rossetti wrote to Hall Caine, he 
mentioned, however, that ** Swinburne thinks The Advent per- 
haps the noblest of all her poems." 

(*) Swinburne was an ardent admirer of Christina Rossetti's 
poetry. To her he addressed A Ballad of Appeal, *^To Christina 
G. Rossetti, ^^ in A Midsummer Holiday, and Other Poems (1884) ; 
to her, he dedicated A Century of Rou^tdels (1883) ; and at her death, 
wrote an elegy entitled, A New Year's Eve, printed in the Nine- 
teenth Century, February, 1895. 

Page 74 

(5) SaTT^o), or, in her own dialect i'dTTi^a, was one of the two great 
leaders of the ^olian school of poetry, of which Alcaeus was the 
other. 

(6) Her lyric poems formed nine books, but of these only frag- 
ments have come down to us. The longest is a splendid ode to 
Aphrodite. The fragments are edited by Neue, Berlin (1827), 
and in Bergk's Poetce Lyrici (1867). 

Athos (Haghion Oros, Monte Santo, i. e. Holy Mountain), the 
mountainous peninsula, also called Acte, which projects from Chal- 

229 



230 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

dice in Macedonia. This peninsula has, for a thousand years, 
been studded with numerous monasteries, cloisters and chapels 
whence it derives its modern name. In these monasteries some 
valuable MSS. of ancient authors have been discovered. 

Page 75 
(^) Sappho was a native of Mitylene or, as some said, of Eresos 
in Lesbos. See line lo of The Grave of Keats ^ Note 28, page 217. 

(9) The Cry of the Children (1843). 

(10) Sonnets from the Portuguese^ first printed as : Sonnets by E, 
B, B,, Reading, (Not for publication,) 1847. 

Page 76 

(11) Vision of Poets in Poems (1844) ; Casa Guidi Windows 
(1851); and Aurora Leigh (1857). 

(12) Casa Guidi was the celebrated home of the Brownings in 
Florence — the house now marked with a commemorative tablet. 

(13) Cf. ** Mrs. Browning, the first great English poetess, was 
also an admirable scholar, though she may not have put the accents 
on her Greek, and even in those poems that seem most remote from 
classical life, such as Aurora Leigh, for instance, it is not difficult 
to trace the fine literary influence of classical training." — Literary 
and Other Notes, The Woman's World, January, 1888. 

(14) Elizabeth Barrett married Robert Browning in 1846 and 
shortly afterwards travelled south to Italy by way of Paris, 
crossing the Alps in the same year. 

Page 77 

(15) Richard Hengist Home, the author of The Death of Marlowe, 

to whom she wrote continuously before her marriage. These letters 

were published under the title oi Letters of E, B, Browning to P, 

H, Home, 

Page 78 

(16) Cf. **I have worked at poetry; it has not been with me 
reverie, but art." — Letters of E, B, Browning to R, H. Home. 

Page 79 

(17) Delphi in Phocis, the seat of the world-renowned temple of 
Apollo, in the center of which was a chasm, and over this a tripod. 



NOTES 231 

whereon was seated the priestess Pythia whenever the oracle was to 
be consulted. 

Page 80 
(18) I. Emily Jane Pfeiffer (1827- 1890) i — Glan Arlach (1877) ; 
Sonnets and Songs (1880) ; and Under the Aspens (1882) ; etc. 

II. Harriet Eleanor Hamilton-King (1840- ) -.— The Disci- 
ples (1878); A Book of Dreams (1882); ^.n^ Ballads of the North 
(1889). 

III. Augusta Webster (Julia A. J. Davies), (1837- 1894) : — 
Pseudonym ** Cecil Home " ; Dramatic Studies (1866); Portraits 
(1870), including The Castaway; The Book of Rhyme (1881) ; also 
dramatic pieces and translations such as Medea (1866). 

IV. (Mrs.) Graham R. Tomson (i860- )\ — The Bird-Bride 
(1889) ; and Summer Night and Other Poems (1891). A sympathetic 
review of the first book with selections from it was included by 
Wilde in Some Literary Notes. The Wo7nan's Worlds June, 1889. 

V. A. Mary F. Robinson-Darmesteter (1857- ):— ^ Hand- 
ful of Honey suckle {i%^%)\ The Crowned Hippolytus {\%%i)\ The New 
Arcadia (1884); An Italian Garden (1886); and Poems, Ballads 
and a Garden Play (1888). **Miss Robinson's poems have always 
the charm of delicate music and graceful expression," Wilde writes 
of the last volume, in A Note on Soine Modem Poets. The Woman's 
World, December, 1888. 

VI. Jean Ingelow (1820-1897):—^ Rhyming Chronicle of 
Incidents and Feelings (1850); Poems {1%"]!)', (1876); (1885)— 
three series. '* Jean Ingelow, whose sonnet on ** A Chess King" is 
like an exquisitely carved gem," Wilde writes of her in Literary 
and Other Notes, The Woman^s World, November, 1887. 

VII. May Kendall (1861- )\— Dreams to Sell (1887) and 
Songs from Drea?7iland (1894) — all in a humorous vein. 

VIII. Edith Nesbit (Bland), {iZ^^) -.—Lays and Legends i^iZ%e)\ 
Leaves of Life (1888). " There are some wonderfully pretty poems 
in it, poems full of quick touches of fancy, and of pleasant ripples 
of rhyme ; and here and there a poignant note of passion flashes across 
the song, as a scarlet thread flashes through the shuttlerace of a loom, 
giving a new value to the delicate tints, and bringing the scheme of 
colour to a higher and more perfect key." Such was Wilde's 



232 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

criticism of the last volume, reviewed in Some Literary Notes, The 
Woman's World, March, 1889. 

IX. May VTQ\yyTi\— Poems (1881) \—A Ballad of the Road and 
Other Poe?ns (1883) ; and Pansies, A Book of Poems (1895 ). *' A poet- 
ess with the true lyrical impulse of song, whose work is as delicate 
as it is delightful," Wilde writes of her in Literary and Other Notes, 
The Woman's World, November, 1887. 

X. Mrs. George Lillie Craik (Dinah Maria Mulock), (1826- 
1887) '. — Poems of Thirty Years, New and (9/^ (1881). 

Wilde wrote more specifically of these poems in an article entitled 
A Note on So7ne Modern Poets, which he contributed to The Woman'' s 
World {pi which he was the editor) for December, 1888. See also the 
reprint of this in Essays, Criticisms and Reviews ( 1901), pages 32-34. 

XI. Mrs. Wilfred Meynell (Alice C. 'Y\iom^'s>OYi)\— Preludes 
1875) and Later Poems (1901). 

XII. Elizabeth Rachel Chapman: — The New Ptirgatory and 
Other Poems (1887). This book was reviewed by Wilde in Literary 
and Other Notes. The Woman's World, January, 1888: '* All of 
Miss Chapman's poems are worth reading, if not for their absolute 
beauty at least for their intellectual intention." 



Page 81 

(19) Cf. "Carlyle's stormy rhetoric, "—^n Pater's Last Volume. 

(20) Cf. ** Those long sentences of Mr. Pater's come to have the 
charm of an elaborate piece of music, and the unity of such music 
also." And later in the same review, *'If imaginative prose be 
really the special art of this century, Mr. Pater must rank amongst 
our century's most characteristic artists."— il/r. Pater'' s Last Volume. 
** Even the work of Mr. Pater, who is, on the whole, the most per- 
fect master of English prose now creating amongst us, is often far 
more like a piece of mosaic than a passage in music." — The Critic 
as Artist. Part /. 

(21) Cf. **His style is chaos illumined by flashes of lightning. 
As a writer he has mastered everything except language," etc. — 
The Decay of Lying and Literary and Other Notes. The Woman's 
World, January, 1888. **One incomparable novelist we have now 
in England, Mr. George Meredith. There are better artists in France, 



NOTES 233 

but France has no one whose view of life is so large, so varied, so 
imaginatively true, etc." — The Soul of Man Under Socialism. 
** Meredith is a prose Browning, and so is Browning.*' — The Critic 
as Artist. Part /. 

(22) Cf. ** Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson, that delightful master 
of delicate and fanciful prose." — The Decay of Lying, 

(23) Cf. ** Ruskin's winged and passionate eloquence." — Mr, 
Pater's Last Volume. 

(24) Cf. ** Women seem to me to possess just what our literature 
wants — alight touch, a delicate hand, a graceful mode of treatment 
and an unstudied felicity of phrase. We want some one who will 
do for our prose what Mme. de Sevigne did for the prose of France." 
— Some Literary Notes, The Woman's Worlds January, 1889. 

Page 82 

(25) Juliana Berners, Bernes, or Barnes {c, 1388-?):— Is be- 
lieved to have lived in the beginning of the fifteenth century and 
to have been Prioress of Sopwell Nunnery, Hertfordshire. Pub- 
lished a work on field sports and heraldry, The Poke of St. Albans 
(i486). This book contains treatises on hawking, hunting and 
kindred sports. Cf. Literary and Other Notes. The Woman's 
World, November, 1887. 

N. P. From this point throughout the essay, all names marked 
with an asterisk (*) have been referred to by Wilde in almost 
identical terms in his review of Woi7ien''s Voices (1887): **An 
anthology of the most characteristic poems by English, Scotch and 
Irish women, selected and arranged by Mrs. William Sharp." This 
review occurs under LAterary and Other Notes . The Womaii's Worlds 
November, 1887, from which quotations have already been made. 

(26) Anne Askew* (i 521-1546) :— Protestant martyr; was twice 
arraigned for heresy and on the second instance, refusing to recant, 
was burned at Smithfield. 

(27) Queen Elizabeth,* the pupil of Ascham, could speak Latin and 
Greek fluently, and French and Italian as well as she did English. 
She was the author of a number of poems as well as translations of 
Poethius and Sallust. George Puttenham includes in his Arte of 

* Cf. Literary and Other Notes. The Woman's World, November, 1887. 



234 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

English Poesie (1589), the fourteen line poem referred to and terms 
it ** A Ditty of her Majesties owne making, passing sweet and har- 
monical." Lines 11-12 read as follows : 

" The daughter of debate, that eke discord doth sowe, 
Shal reap no gaine, where former rule hath taught stil peace to growe.** 

Elizabeth wrote a number of letters to James VI of Scotland, which 
were published by the Camden Society in 1849. 

(28) Mary Herbert,* Countess of Pembroke {c. 1555-1621) : — Sis- 
ter of Sir Philip Sidney. To her, the latter dedicated his Arcadia; 
Spenser, his Ruines of Time; Daniel, his Delia. For her, Nicholas 
Breton wrote The Pilgrimage of Paradise. She was one of the 
most distinguished litterateurs of her time, herself author of The 
Doleful Lay of Clorinda, published with Astrophel and Stella; the 
translator in blank verse from the French of Antonie, a tragedy by 
Robert Gamier ; collaborator with Sidney in a metrical version of 
the Psalms (unpublished) ; and editor of her brother's posthumous 
works. 

Page Zz 

(29) Lady Elizabeth Carey* (or Carew). There were two ladies 
of the same name: the mother {f. 1590), a patroness of poets, to 
whom Spenser and Nash dedicated works ; and the daughter, to whom 
Nash dedicated Terrors of the Nighty referring in that dedication to 
translations of poems from Petrarch. It is generally conceded that 
the daughter was the author of this tedious tragedy, published 1 613. 

(30) Lady Mary Wroth* {fl. 1621), daughter of Sir Robert Sidney 
and niece of Sir Philip, whose Arcadia she imitated in The 
Countesse of Mountgomerie'^ s Urania. Ben Jonson's dedication 
reads as follows: — *To the Lady Most Deserving Her Name and 
Blood, Lady Mary Wroth. Madam, — In the age of sacrifices, the 
truth of religion,' etc. — The Alchemist (1612). 

(31) Elizabeth,* Queen of Bohemia (Stuart^, (1596-1662) : — 
Daughter of James I of England. She became the wife of the Elector 
Palatine, Frederick V, who was chosen King of Bohemia in 1619 and 
deposed in 1620, his reign of one winter gaining him the name of 
** The Winter King." She, however, is remembered as ** The Queen 

*Cf . Literary and Other Notes, The Woman* s Worlds November, 1887. 



236 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Page 84 

(36) Lady Russell* (Rachel Wriothesley), (1636-1723) :— Daugh- 
ter of the 4th Earl of Southampton ; celebrated as the amanuensis 
of her husband in his famous trial, and author of letters since tran- 
scribed from the MS. in Woburn(e) Abbey, first published in 1773. 

(37) Eliza Haywood* (Fowler), (c. 1693-1756) :— Wrote a great 
number of dramas, etc. Secret Histories, Novels and Poems (1725), 
dedicated to Richard Steele. Of her, Pope wrote : 

**Two babes of love close clinging to her waist; 
Fair as before her works t she stands confessed, 
In flowers and pearls by bountectis Kirkall dressed." 

— The Dunciad. 

t The ** two babes '^ were her scandalous books, The Court 0/ Cart- 
mania and The New Utopia. 

(38) Anne Wharton,* Marchioness of Wharton (Lee), {c, 1632- 
1685) : — The author of a metrical paraphrase of The Lamentations 
of Jeremiah and other verse. Edmund Waller wrote of her in 
On an Elegy on the Earl of Rochester, 

** Her wit as graceful, great and good; 
Allied in genius, as in blood." 

(39) Lady Mary Wortley Montagu * (Pierrepont), (1689-1762):— 
Famous as one of the greatest letter-writers of any age. Has also 
written verses, town eclogues, and epigrams, and some charming 
translations of Turkish poems submitted to her when she was in 
Constantinople. 

(40) Mrs. Susannah Centlivre ( 1667-1 723) :— Dramatist. The 
Perj tired Husband {\*]06) was her first production. Plays (19 in all), 
with her life, was issued in 3 vols., 1761. Pope's comment reads : 

** At last Centlivre felt her voice to fail." — The Dunciad. 

(41) Lady Anne Barnard* (Lindsay), (1750-1825) : — Her poem 
of Auld Robin Gray, was published anonymously when she was but 
22 (1772). 

(42) ''Vanessa," Esther (Hester) Vanhomrigh {c, 1689-1723), 
was the daughter of a Dutch merchant who had settled in England. 
Swift became acquainted with Mrs. Vanhomrigh and her two daugh- 

*Cf, Literary and Other Notes. The Woman* s World, November, 18S7. 



NOTES 237 

ters during a visit to London in 1708, when Esther was not more 
than 19 years old. She became enamoured of him and her infatua- 
tion lasted until the day of her death, which was the indirect result 
of their estrangement. Swift celebrated their love in Cadenus and 
Vanessa, a long poem written in 1 713, revised in 1 719 and 
published after her death by the terms of her testament. 

(43) Dean Swift's *' Stella" was Hester (Esther) Johnson (1681- 
1728), whom he first met as an inmate of Sir William Temple's 
family. To her he addressed his famous Journal, One of the great 
puzzles of literary history remains, whether or not Swift married 
Miss Johnson. 

(44) Hester L. (Salisbury), (Thrale) Piozzi * (1741-1821) : — 
Author of Anecdotes of Dr» Johnson (1786); Letters to and from 
Dr. Johnson (1788). Her poem, The Three Warnings^ appeared 
in a volume of Miscellanies issued in 1776 by Mrs. Williams. 
Mrs. Piozzi was arch-priestess of the Delia Cruscan mutual admi- 
ration society, and her contributions to the Florence Miscellanies 
(1785) afforded a subject for Gifford's satire in his Baviadi 

" See Thrale' s gay widow with a satchel roam, 
And bring in pomp her laboured nothings home ! " 

Page 85 

(45) Mrs. Anna Letitia Barbauld * (Aiken), (1743-1825): — 
Author of Poems (1773), Hymns in Prose for Children (1775). 
Some of her lighter verse is quite readable. 

(46) Hannah More * (i 745-1833) :— Author of a pastoral drama, 
The Search after Happiness (1773) ; The Inflexible Captive (1774) ; 
Legendary Poe??is; Percy, a Tragedy (1776); The Fatal Falsehood, 
a Tragedy (1779); Sacred Dramas (1782), mchidAng Sensibility; 
Florio, a volume of verse (1786); and later a great amount of 
didactic prose. Her collected works were issued in 1 1 vols. (1833). 

Wilde mentions her at greater length in a review of Mrs. Wal- 
ford's Four Biographies from Blackwood in Some Literary Notes. 
The Woman's World, March, 1889. 

(47) Joanna Baillie* (1762-1851) :— Called by Scott " The Im- 
mortal Joanna,'* author of Fugitive Verses (1790) ; Plays on the 
Passions (1798-1836) ; and The Family Legend (1810). 

*Ci. Literary and Other Notes. The Wo7nan*s World, November, 1887. 



238 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

(48) Mrs. Hester Chapone* (Mulso), (1727-1801) :— Contributed 
to Johnson's Rambler, Was especially a writer of essays. Letters 
on the Improvement of the Mind (1772) ; and Miscellanies (1775). 

(49) Anna Seward* ( 1 747-1809) : — At an early age was the 
author of elegiac verses on Garrick and Mc^jor Andre. Wrote a poeti- 
cal novel, Louise (1782) ; and Poems, 3 vols., bequeathed to and is- 
sued with a memoir by Sir Walter Scott (18 10). 

(50) L. E. L.* (Pseudonym for Letitia Elizabeth Landon), 
(1802- 1838), afterwards Mrs. Maclean : — First a contributor to The 
Literary Gazette. Published the following verse : The Fate of 
Adelaide (1821) ; The Iifiprovisatrice (1824); The Troubadour 
(1825) ; The Golden Violet (1827) ; etc. Was also a dramatist and 
novelist. She has been described, despite Disraeli*s comment, as a 
very fascinating woman. Her life was a sad one and her death 
very tragic. See Christina G. Rossetti's lovely poem, **' L. E. L." : 

"Whose heart was breaking for a little love." 

(51) (Mrs.) Ann Radcliflfe* (Ward), ( 1 764-1823) :- Once called 
the **Salvator Rosa of English novelists." Her first novel was 
The Castle of Athli^t and Dunbayne (1789), which was followed 
by The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794) and The Italian (1797). 

(52) Georgiana Cavendish,* Duchess of Devonshire (Spenser), 
(1757-1806): — The author of verses, many of which exhibit much 
elegance of expression. Her Ode to Hope was commented on by 
Walpole, who wrote of her, **She effaces all without being a 
beauty." Her best known poem is The Passage of the Mountain 
of St. Gothard, first published in France with a French translation 
(1802), and printed in several foreign languages before its appear- 
ance in England in 18 16. 

(53) I. —Lady Helen Selina Dufferin* (Sheridan), (1807-1867) : — 
granddaughter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Famed especially 
for her lyrics, e. g., Terence"* s Farewell and The Irish Emigrant. 

II.— The Hon. Caroline Elizabeth Norton* (1808-1876) : — 7:^^ 
Sorrows of Rosalie (1829); The Undying One (1831). Married a 
second time to Lord Gifford. The third sister Georgina, became 
Duchess of Somerset, the trio being known as **The Three 
Graces." 

*Cf. Literary and Other Notes. The Woman* s Worlds November, 1887. 



NOTES 239 

(54) (Mrs.) Mary Tighe* (Blackford), (1772-1810) :— Of her 
poems, the most famous was a version in melodious Spenserian 
stanzas of the tale of Cupid and Psyche from the Golden Ass of 
Apuleius, In 1853 there had already been six editions of Psyche 
published. Keats mentions her also in his verses, To Some Ladies. 

(55) Constantia Grierson* {c. 1706-1733) :— This lady is said to 
have been proficient in Hebrew, Latin, Greek and French, and was 
well-known in her time as a writer of elegant verse, of which an ex- 
ample was included by Mrs. Barber in her volume Poems on Sev- 
eral Occasions (1734). She edited Terence (1727) and Tacitus 
(1730) for her husband, George Grierson, George Ill's printer in 
Ireland. Was on terms of intimacy with Swift and Thomas Sheri- 
dan. 

(56) Felicia Dorothea Hemans (Browne), (1793-1835) -.—Lays of 
Many Lands (1826) ; Records of Women (1828). 

(57) (Mrs.) Mary Robinson,* known as *'Perdita" (1758-1800) : 
— Actress and author; mistress of George, Prince of Wales (George 
IV). A complete edition of her verses appeared under the title of 
The Poetical Works of the Late Mrs, Mary Robinson. Lncluding 
Many Pieces Never Before Published. 3 vols. 1806. 

The Ode to the Snowdrop is her best known poem. 

(58) Emily Bronte * (1818-1848) :— Besides being the author of 
Wuthering Heights, she wrote a number of beautiful poems, such 
as The Night Wind, A Death Scene, Last Lines and Old Stoic, 

*Cf. Literary and Other Notes. The Woman's World, November, 1887 



NOTES FOR ^* LONDON MODELS '» 

Page 89 

(1) This essay was published in The English Illustrated Maga^ 
zine. No. 64, January, 1889, page 313, with an ornamental head-piece 
by James West and fifteen illustrations from drawings by Harper 
Pennington, engraved by Walker and Boutall, except for the full 
page which was the work of H. Fitzner Davey. 

J.-Joseph Renaud in Oscar Wilde et so7t oeuvre {La Grande 
Revue, 15 Fevrier, 1905;, says that in Wilde's house there hung a 
portrait of 'Me maitre de la demeure avec une canne, par Arthur 
Pennington." 

(2) John Pentland Mahaffy (1839- ), C. V. O. (1904), Senior 
Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin ; Professor of Ancient History, etc. 
He is the author of translations and works on Philosophy; Greek 
Social Life from Homer to Menander (1874) ; Rambles and Studies 
in Greece (1878); etc., etc. It was with Professor Mahaffy that 
Wilde made a tour of Greece, via Italy, during the summer of 
1877. At this period and at the time of his first visit to Italy in 
1876, were written or conceived many of his early poems, 
e. g., Sonnet on Approaching Italy (Turin); San Miniato; Ave 
Maria Plena Grata (Florence) ; Italia (Venice) : Sonnet Written 
in Holy Week at Genoa; Rome Unvisited; Urbs Sacra Sterna; 
Easter Day (Rome) ; The Grave of Shelley (Rome) ; Impression de 
Voyage; Ravenna (March, 1877), (see Note 29, page 217); Heu 
Miserande Puer, page 61 ; etc., etc. For a commentary on this trip 
andtheearlycareerof the poet, see^;^ Irish Winnerofthe Nezvdigate. 
The Irish Monthly, No. 65, November, Sixth Yearly Volume, 1878, 
page 630; also the charming sonnet To Oscar Wilde, Author of 
''Ravenna,'' by Augustus M. Moore, page 610 of the same number. 

(3) Pheidias or Phidias {^Et^iaq), (B.C. c. 490-432), the pride 
of Greece, sculptor of Athene Promachos on the Acropolis at 
Athens, the Athene of the Parthenon (See Wilde's Charmides, 
verses 18-23), and the chryselephantine statue of Zeus at Olympus, 

241 



242 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

which was considered by the Ancient World as the masterpiece of 
the whole range of Grecian art. 

(4) Polygnotus (ILo^vyvoTog) , one of the most celebrated of 
Greek painters, who settled in Athens at about B.C. 463. By some 
he was called the inventor of painting, the art, as distinguished 
from the handicraft. His most famous paintings in the Lesche, or 
Hall of the Cnidians at Delphi, represented the Fall of Troy and 
scenes from the underworld (Pausanias, x, 25-31). He was com- 
missioned by Cimon to decorate the public buildings of Athens, such 
as the Temple of Theseus, the Anaceum and the Poecile. He also 
executed a series of paintings in the Propylaea of the Acropolis. 
His pictures were without background, as tinted outlines on the 
white wall. 

(5) Elpinike ('E/lTrm/c^), daughter of Miltiades, the wife of 
Callias, a wealthy Athenian, who, as a condition of marriage, paid 
in behalf of her brother, Cimon, the fine of fifty talents, which 
had been imposed on Miltiades. — Herodo f us, Yl, 132-36; Miltiades, 
Nepos. 

(6) This was Cimon (Ki/iuv), (B.C. 504- <:. 449), son of the 
great Miltiades and Hegesipyle. He first distinguished himself at 
the time of the invasion of Xerxes (480), and won great victories in 
466, on both land and sea. From about 471 to 461, he was the 
greatest power in Athenian politics 

Page 90 

(7) Niagara seems to have been Wilde's dete noire. His first 
visit to the Falls was on the Western tour of 1882. He stopped 
there on February 9th, at the Prospect House, Ontario, and wrote 
in the Private Album of the Hotel: ** The roar of these waters is 
like the roar when the mighty wave of democracy breaks against 
the shores where kings lie couched at ease." — Neiv York Herald, 
February 10, 1882, page 7. Subsequently, however, he seems to 
have greatly enjoyed baiting the American Press, by questioning the 
grandeur of the Falls. See Mrs. Langtry on the Hudson, New 
York Herald, October 30, 1882, page 4, in which Wilde's rather 
whimsical comments on Niagara are given at some length and taken 
with apparent seriousness by the interviewer. Here are a few of 
his later mots on the same subject : 



NOTES 243 

** Niagara will survive any criticism of mine. I must say, how- 
ever, that it is the first great disappointment in the married life of 
many Americans, who spend their honeymoons there. ^^— Oscar 
Wilde Returns, New York Worlds August 12, 1883, page 5. 

** Niagara is a melancholy place filled with melancholy people, who 
wander about trying to get up that feeling of sublimity, which the 
guide-books assure them they can do without extra charge." — 
London Topics of To-day, New York Times y Nov. 25, 1883, page 5. 

**I was disappointed with Niagara. Most people must be dis- 
appointed with Niagara. Every American bride is taken there, 
and the sight of the stupendous waterfall must be one of the earliest, 
if not the keenest, disappointments in American married life." — Im- 
pressions of America, September, 1883. 

His remark, ^' I am not exactly pleased with the Atlantic. It is 
not so majestic as I expected," is in the same category, and called 
forth almost enough humorous verse to reach from Liverpool to 
New York. 

Page 91 

(8) Gf. *' Popular is he, this poor peripatetic professor of pos- 
ing." — The Relation of Dress to Artj page 52. 

(^) Cf. " The Attorney-General said, * There are some people 
who would do away with critics altogether.' 
I agree with him, and am of the irrationals he points at. 

No ! let there be no critics ! they are not 'a necessary evil,' but an 
evil quite unnecessary, though an evil certainly. " — Whistler v, Rus- 
kin: Art and Art Critics, Chelsea, Dec, 1878; also The Gentle Art 
of Making EnefnieSy pages 29-30. 

fiO) Gf. ** It is only an auctioneer who can equally and impartially 
admire all schools of Art."— The Critic as Artist. Part II, 

(11) Gf. '*That . . . what is ugly in fact may, in its effect, 
become beautiful, is true."— Z)^^ Relation of Dress to Arty page 
50; also Note for same, page 201. 

Page 94 

(12) Heinrich Fuessli (Henry Fuseli), R.A., was born at 
Zurich in 1741, and died in London, 1825. He settled in Eng- 
land about 1767, and adopted painting as a profession. **A fan- 



244 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

tastic and prolific designer rather than a painter, he had neither the 
judgment to control, nor the technical knowledge to adequately 
represent, the fancies of his powerful, but ill-regulated imagina- 
tion." — Cyclopcedia of Painters and Painting. Edited by John 
Denison Champlin, Jr., Vol. II., page lOO. 

Cf. ** He (Thomas Griffiths Wainewright) tells us frankly that 
his great admiration for Fuseli was largely due to the fact that the 
little Swiss did not consider it necessary that an artist should only 
paint what he sees." — Pen^ Pencil^ and Poison, 

Page 95 

(13) Cf. *' A lovely brown boy, with crisp clustering hair." — The 
Tomb of Keats, page 6o; also Note to same, page 214. 

(14) The word ** crouch" makes better sense. "Couch" is 
probably a printer's error overlooked by Wilde or the proof-reader. 

Page 98 

(15) Cf. The first keynote of The Relation of Dress to Art, 
page 48. 

(16) Manette Salomon, by Edmond and Jules de Goncourt 
(1830-1870), 2 vols., 1868. 

(1*^) Les Freres Zemganno, by Edmond de Goncourt (i 822-1 896), 
published in 1879. 

Page 99 

(18) Cf. **The professional model is ruining painting, and re- 
ducing it to a condition of mere pose and pastiche,^'' — The Relation 
of Dress to Art, page 51. 

Page 100 

(1^) Cf. ** All costumes are caricatures. The basis of Art is not 
the Fancy Ball." — Ibid., page 52. 



NOTES FOR "'DORIAN GRAY ^ AND ITS CRITICS" 

Page 103 

(1) This letter appeared in The St. James^ Gazette, Thursday, June 
^6, 1890, under the heading, Mr. Oscar Wilde'' s Bad Case, 

For other replies by Wilde to the criticism of The Picture of 
Dorian Gray, see The Daily Chroiticle, July 2, 1890 and The 
Scots Observer, July 12, August 2 and 16, 1890. 

(2) This very virulent attack on the book and the author was 
printed on Tuesday, June 24, 1890. 

(3) The Picture of Dorian Gray, issued simultaneously in Eng- 
land and America, as the **long story" of Lippincotfs Monthly 
Magazine, pages 3-100, July, 1890— No. 271, Vol. XLVI, of the 
American edition. The text of this first issue was in thirteen chapters 
in all. Since then twelve distinctive editions have been published in 
English, of which three bear the imprint of London ; seven, that of 
New York ; and two, that of Paris. Of the first three mentioned, 
one is the soi-disant ** Privately Printed" issue, dated 1890, which 
follows the Lippincott text; the other two were published by 
Messrs. "Ward, Lock & Co., 1891 and 1894, and were the only editions 
authorized and sanctioned by Wilde. With the former of these two, 
was issued a supplementary Edition de Luxe of 250 signed copies, used 
largely for presentation purposes. In the two authorized editions the 
text has been materially altered and extended, by additions and 
changes in the sub-divisions, to twenty chapters. They contain, 
also, a Preface (first published in The Fortnightly Review, March, 
1891), composed of epigrams which represent his attitudes toward 
literature, as the verbal manifestation of Art. These epigrams are 
sometimes referred to as The Credo or The Dogmas, Of the remain- 
ing editions in English, all follow the Ward & Lock text, except 
five of the American editions, which were pirated from the first 
magazine issue. Of the remaining two American editions, the sixth 

245 



246 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

was published by the Charterhouse Press, 1904, and transferred to 
Brentano's in 1905. The seventh or current edition is Brentano's 
reissue of the last, with corrections and revisions as regards certain 
biographical and bibliographical addenda. A translation in French 
in twenty chapters, was published in 1895 (1900), followed by two 
editions in cheaper form. The German translations are two in 
number: one, the work of Johannes Gaulke, published in 1901 ; 
another, the work of Felix Paul Greve, published in 1903, and 
now in its third edition. The first is in thirteen chapters ; the 
second, in twenty. There are also translations in Italian and 
Swedish. 

(*) Cf. **The first condition of criticism is that the critic should 
be able to recognize that the sphere of Art and the sphere of Ethics 
are absolutely distinct and separate."— 7^>^^ Critic as Artist, 
Fart II, **Art is out of the reach of morals, for her eyes are 
fixed upon things beautiful and immortal and ever changing. To 
morals belong the lower and less intellectual spheres. However, 
let these mouthing Puritans pass; they have their comic side." — 
Ibid, Cf. The Rise of Historical Criticism, foot of page 26. 

Page 104 

(5) An extract from this letter with especial reference to this part, 
is quoted in The Critic^ under heading of The Lounger, August 23, 
1890, No. 347, Vol. XIV, N. S. — The Critic takes sides with Wilde 
upon the point in question. 

(6) Cf. **The plays are not great; ... As a matter of fact 
most of them are the outcome of wagers. So was Dorian Gray. 
I wrote it in a few days, merely because a friend of mine insisted 
that I could never write a novel."— Translated from Oscar Wilde 
in Pre'textes by Andr6 Gide. This study appeared originally in 
VErmitage, June, 1902. It was translated into German by Berta 
Franzos for the Rheinisch-Westfdlischen Zeitung^ Nr. 547, 560, 
568 (1903). Franz Blei made another translation, which he included 
in In Memoriam. Oscar Wilde, Leipzig, 1904 (1905). The latter 
was re-translated into English, and issued under Blei's title by Per- 
cival Pollard, Greenwich, Conn., 1905. Stuart Mason has 
translated it from the original French and published it as Oscar 
Wilde, A Sttidy, Oxford, 1905. 



NOTES 247 

Page 105 

(7) This second letter appeared Friday, June 27, 1890. 

Page 106 

(8) Wilde is more than probably referring to the novels of Mrs. 
Humphry Ward. Cf. ^^ Robert Elsmere is of course a masterpiece — 
a masterpiece of the ^ genre ennuyeux^' th.Q one form of literature 
that the English people seem to thoroughly enjoy. A thoughtful 
young friend of ours once told us that it reminded him of the sort of 
conversation that goes on at a meat tea in the house of a Noncon- 
formist family, and we can quite believe it. . . . It is simply 
Arnold^s Literature and Dogma with the literature left out.'^ 

— The Decay of Lying, 

(9) It is interesting to note that this is the same point made by 
Elizabeth Barrett in one of her letters to R. H. Home, when he 
takes her to task for apparent disregard of rhyme. 

Page 107 
(lOj Wilde has had attributed to him a translation of The Satyri- 
con of Petronius — indeed, a translation with a long introduction, 
bibliography, and most scholarly notes, was issued in Paris, 1902, 
with the following note printed on a transparent slip pasted over the 
publisher's imprint : "The present translation was done direct from 
the original Latin by 'Sebastian Melmoth' (Oscar Wilde)." The 
authenticity of this work, however, is questioned, if not altogether 
denied by Mr. Robert Ross, his literary executor, on the ground 
that no one can show any part of the MS. in the author's handwrit- 
ing. 

(11) Wilde himself was an Honour man. The following is noted 
vci Oxford Honours. 1220— 1894. Clarendon Press. 1894: 

Wilde (Oscar O'F. Magd.) 

I CI. Mod. 1876 [First Class Honour in Classics, awarded by 

Moderator of Magdalen.] 
English Verse. 1878. [Newdigate Prize: Ravenna,"] 
I CI. 1878. [First Class Honour in Classics.] 

Page 108 

(12) <«The only real people are the people who never existed, and 



248 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

if a novelist is base enough to go to life for his personages he should 
at least pretend that they are creations, and not boast of them as 
copies." — The Decay of Lying, 

(13) Cf. **As a method, Realism is a complete failure." — The Decay 
of Lying, 

Page 109 

(14) This third letter appeared Saturday, June 28, 1890, under the 
heading : Mr. Oscar Wilde^s Defence. 

Page no 

(15) Cf. The Censure and ^^ Salome y*'' pages 139-40, 

Page 113 

(16) This fourth letter appeared Monday, June 30, 1890, under the 
same heading as the last : Mr, Wilde'' s Defence. 

(17) The following letter, to which he has reference, appeared Sat- 
urday, June 28. 

*'To the Editor of the St. James Gazette: 
Sir : — If Mr. Oscar Wilde is the last man in England (according 
to his own account), who requires advertisement, his friends and 
publishers do not seem to be of the same opinion. Otherwise it 
is difficult to account for the following audacious puff -positive which 
has been sent through the half-penny post to newspaper editors and 
others : — 

'Mr. Oscar Wilde will contribute to the July number of Lip- 
pincotfs Magazi7te a complete novel, entitled The Picture of Dorian 
Gray, which, as the first venture in fiction of one of the most promi- 
nent personalities and artistic influences of the day, will be every- 
w^here read with wide interest and curiosity. But the story is in 
itself so strong and strange, and so picturesque and powerful in 
style, that it must inevitably have created a sensation in the literary 
world, even if published without Mr. Wilde's name on the title 
page. Viewed merely as a romance, it is— from the opening para- 
graph down to the tragic and ghastly climax — full of strong and 
sustained interest ; as a study in psychology it is phenomenal ; and 
judged even as a piece of literary workmanship, it is one of the 
most brilliant and remarkable productions of the year. ' Such, Sir, 



NOTES 249 

is the estimate of Mr. Wilde's publisher or paragraph- writer. Note 
the adjectival exuberance of the puffer — complete, strong, strange, 
picturesque, powerful, tragic, ghastly, sustained, phenomenal, bril- 
liant and remarkable ! For a man who does not want advertisement 
this is not bad. I am, Sir, Your obedient servant, 

A London Editor ^ 

June 27. 

Page 114 

(18) Mr. R. H. Sherard mentions in Oscar Wilde, The Story of an 
Unhappy Friendship, that Wilde had a great aversion for all neolo- 
gisms, especially those terminating in **ette." 

Page 115 
(1^) Cf. ** There is the despot who tyrannizes over the body. There 
is the despot who tyrannizes over the soul. . . . The first is called 
The Prince. The second is called The Pope." — The Soul of Man 
Under Socialism, 



NOTES FOR '' MR. KIPLING AND THE ANGLO- 
INDIANS '' 

Page 119 

(1) This letter was printed under the heading An Anglo-Indian^ s 
Complaint ixi The Times (London), Saturday, September 26, 1891. 

(2) Under the title An Anglo- Indian' s Co?nplaint there appeared 
in The Times, September 25, '91, a long letter signed ** An Indian 
Civilian," in which among other grievances was one against Wilde 
for attributing vulgarity to the Anglo-Indian. 

(3) Wilde's allusion to the Anglo-Indians and vulgarity occurred 
first in The True Function and Value of Criticism, Concluded, 
The Nineteenth Century, September, 1890, No. 163, Vol. XXVIII. 
This essay, in a somewhat modified form, appeared later as The 
Critic as Artist, Part II in Intentions, Why Wilde should refer 
to the magazine issue and not to Intentions, is difficult to understand, 
for Intentions was published as early as May, 189 1, An extract from 
the passage in question, is quoted here as the first part of the 
introductory keynotes. 



251 



NOTES FOR " A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES " 

Page 123 

(1) This letter was printed in The Speaker (London), December 
5, 1891. Vol. IV. 

Page 124 

(2) The paragraph in question occurred under **The Week," page 
648, of the preceding number of The Speaker, November 28, 1891. 

(3) A House of Po7negranates by Oscar Wilde. 

The Design & Decorations of This Book by C. Ricketts & C. H. 
Shannon. 

James R. Osgood, Mcllvaine & Co. London, MDCCCXCI. 

The Chiswick Press makes the following observation regarding 
this book of fairy tales in the advertising column of The Century 
Guild Hobby Horse, October, 1892, No. 28, Vol. VII: 

^^ A House of Pomegranates, The Young King, The Birthday of the 
Infanta, and other Beautiful Tales, by Oscar Wilde. With four 
full-page illustrations by C. H. Shannon, and numerous decorations 
in the text by C. Ricketts. With end papers executed in pale 
olive, and the cover in moss green, pale coral and ivory-white. 
8vo. cloth, uncut edges and large margins, 21 s. — " 

(*) Charles Shannon designed also the title-pages and bindings 
for Lady Windermere^ s Fan (1893), y^ Wo7nan of No l77iportance 
(1894), and The Duchess of Padua, unpublished, but announced as 
**in preparation," in the Publisher's List of 1894. The covers of 
The Importa7ice of Being Earnest (1899) and A71 Ideal Husband 
(1899) also suggest his handiwork. Wilde evidently thought highly 
of his talent as he presented him with a large paper copy of the last 
play, with the following inscription: **To Charles Shannon: in 
sincere admiration : in affection : etc." 

253 



254 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

(5) Charles Ricketts, of the London firm of Hacon and Ricketts, 
publishers of the Vale Press Books, to which he contributed a 
larger part of the illustrations, initial letters, etc. In addition to 
his work in A House of Pomegranates ^ Mr. Ricketts designed the 
cover for the 1892 limited edition of Wilde's Foe?nSy issued by 
Elkin Mathews and John Lane ; drew the cover and illustrations, 
etc., for The Sphinx, published by the same firm in 1894; and was 
commissioned to supply initial letters and a cover design for The 
Incomparable and Ingenious History of Mr. W, H.^ announced in 
Lane's Publisher's List for 1894, but never issued. 

Page 125 

(6) As an exposition of his views regarding the illustration of 
books, of. **At present there is a discord between our pictorial 
illustrations and our unpictorial type. The former are too essentially 
imitative in character and often disturb a page instead of decorating 
it." — So?ne Literary Notes. The Wo7nan''s World, January, 1889. 

C^) In fairness to the author of the paragraph to which Wilde 
objects, the latter should have acknowledged the critic's favorable 
comment on the illustrations, if not on the cover design. 



NOTES FOR "THE RELATION OF THE 
ACTOR TO THE PLAY '» 

Page 129 

(1) This letter was printed under the title of Puppets and Actor." 
in The Daily Telegraph, London, February 20, 1892, 

Page 130 

(2) This is quoted in a most interesting article on Wilde, entitled 
Poets and Puppets — and Censors, The Saturday Review^ London, 
July 2, 1892, No. 1914, Vol. LXXIV. 

Also, see the analysis of this letter in an article entitled Puppet 
and Playwright. The Saturday Review, February 27, 1892, No. 
1896, Vol. Lxxni. 

Page 131 

(3) Cf. **When a great actor plays Shakespeare, we have the 
same experience. His own personality becomes a vital part of the 
interpretation." The Critic as Artist, Part IT 

(4) Cf. ** His dancing was funny," cried the Infanta; **but his 
acting is funnier still. Indeed he is almost as good as the puppets, 
only of course not so natural." — The Birthday of the Infanta, 

Page 132 

(5) John Gray, author of Silverpoints (1893). This book is 
especially remarkable for its cover which was one of the early suc- 
cesses of modern artistic binding. 



2SS 



NOTES FOR " THE CENSURE AND ' SALOMfi ' " 

Page 137 

(1) This interview was published first in The Fall Mall Gazette^ 
London, Wednesday, June 29, 1892, and on the following day 
in The Fall Mall Budget, June 30, 1892, Vol. 40, page 947. It was 
accompanied by a caricature of Wilde as a French religieux, 
entitled ** Monsieur Vilde." 

(2) Salome has indeed been the subject of strange vicissitudes. 
Written in French by Wilde with slight revisions by his friend, the 
late Marcel Schwob, so exquisite was the music of its prose and so 
dramatic its plot that Mme. Bernhardt undertook to produce it, al- 
though it was by no means a one-role piece. In 7^he Story of an Un- 
happy Friendship, Robert Sherard tells how its premiere was delayed 
and how for obvious reasons Mme. Bernhardt neglected to present 
it, as had been her intention, in 1895. The play was produced in 
Paris by Luigne Poe in 1896, and is mentioned by Wilde in his 
letter of March 10, 1896, written to Robert Ross from prison : De 
Frofundis. Aufzeichnimgen und Brief e, translated by Max Meyer- 
feld, page 102 ; or De Frofundis. Frecede de Lettres £crites de la 
Frison, translated by Henry-D. Davray, page 17. Reference is like- 
wise made to this in the introduction to J. -Joseph Renaud's transla- 
tion into French of Intentions; or see Oscar Wilde et son 
oeuvre. La Grande Revue, Feb. 15, 1905, pages 400-414. In 
Germany, it has created a furore from the time of its production at 
the Neue Theater, Berlin, September 29, 1903. It has also ap- 
peared on the boards in Italy (see // processo e Vestetica di 
Oscar Wilde. L. Gamberale. Revista d" Italia, June, 1904). 
On the other hand, in English, there seem to have been 
no more than two productions thus far. The first was of a quasi- 
private nature by the New Stage Club, at the Bijou Theatre, Archer 

257 



258 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Street, W., London, May loth and 13th, 1905. The second was a 
series of public performances in New York, given at The Berkeley- 
Lyceum, 19 West 44tli Street, by the Progressive Stage Society, 
from Monday, November 13th to Thursday, November i6th, incL^ 
1905. The first performance was for members of the society only. 
See also Note 4, page 263 fol. 

Page 139 

(3) See Poets and Puppets — and Censors. The Saturday Review^ 
London, July 2, 1892, No. 19 14, Vol. LXXIV. This extract is 
quoted to show what is considered an inconsistency in Wilde's at- 
titude towards the actor, if compared with the views expressed in 
Puppets and Actors. This paragraph, beginning with ** Every re- 
hearsal, " and ending with ** and not to me " is quoted in The Sun^ 
New York, April 6, 1895. 

Page 141 

(4) Herodiade, 5 acts, Brussels, Theatre dela Monnaie, 1881. 

(5) La Peine de Saba, Paris, Opera, February 29, 1862. 

(6) Die Makkabder, German Opera in 3 acts, Berlin, April 17, 

1875. 

C^) Divorfons, a comedy by Victorien Sardou, produced in 1880. 

(8) It is stated, however, on the authority of Mr. Sherard that 
Wilde received some assistance, though slight, from Marcel Schwob. 
It was to him that Wilde dedicated The Sphinx^ ** in Friendship and 
in Admiration." In the same year (1894), Mimes was published. 
Wilde was given one of the Japan vellum copies with the inscrip- 
tion : **a mon cher Oscar Wilde, son admirateur, son ami, Marcel 
Schwob." 

Mayer- Andre- Af^r<f<?/ Schwob was born 1867. In addition to 
Mimes y he wrote among other books £tude sur V argot fra^tgais 
(1889); C(Kur double {\%(^\)\ le Roiau masque d^ or {i?>()2) \ Croisade 
des enfants (1895); Vies imaginaires (1896); and La lampe de 
Psyche (1903). He also adapted Hamlet with E. Morand for 
Sarah Bernhardt, who produced it in 1899. 

Page 142 

(^) This announcement called forth much satirical comment, 
notably, Lines to otir New Censor^ a satirical poem in five quatrains 



NOTES 259 

by W. W. (William Watson) in The Spectator, Saturday, July 9, 

1892, No. 3341, Vol. 69, which was afterwards reprinted in The 
Poems of William Watson, edition of 1893. A rather amusing 
cartoon of Wilde as a French conscript was printed above the caption 
** A Wilde Idea. Or, More Injustice to Ireland! " in Punch, July 

9, 1892, Vol. cm. 

Compare this announcement with the first paragraph of Paris, 
the Abode of Artists, 

(10) Compare this statement, that on page 139, and the tenor of 
Wilde's letter to The Times ^ pages 15 1-2, with E. Gomez Carrillo's 
Preface to the Spanish translation of Salome\ This rather salacious 
fantasy is entitled El Origen de la ** Salome ,, de Wilde and states as 
a fact that Wilde wrote the play for Sarah Bernhardt or rather 
that it was largely her personality that suggested the form of the 
play. The following are characteristic extracts : 

*' Los labios del poeta crispabanse, sonriendo a la visi6n de 
Salome desnuda. En su entusiasmo de artista sensual, creia ver a 
Sarah Bernhardt adolescente, bailando, desnuda, ante el mundo." 
—Page 16. 

** La idea de ver a Sarah Bernhardt, rejuvenecida, bailando 
desnuda ante el Tetrarca volvio a obsesionarle. Y abandonando su 
lengua natal, principio en frances su Salome'.'''' — Vo-gt 19. 

Wilde's reason for writing ^^Z^/??/ has also been touched upon by 
Meltzer under the heading Footlights, in The World, December 17, 

1893, page 20. The Sarah Bernhardt theory is probably founded on 
rumour, if not made out of the whole cloth. 



Page 143 

(11) This is a reference to The Poet and the Puppets, a travesty 
by Mr. Charles Brookfield with music by J. M. Glover. This skit 
began at The Comedy Theatre in May, 1892, and had a run of 
several months. It was an exceedingly clever burlesque of Lady 
Windermere 'j- Fan, or rather of the eccentricities of its author. Of 
it, it is said: ** Mr. Charles Hawtrey transformed himself for the 
nonce into the * Poet' and so well, that it was not even necessary 
for him to sing 'Neighbor O'Flaherty's Child' to disclose the 
identity. Later he sang most amusingly, *A Poet Lived in a 



260 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Handsome Style.* '* See The Theatre^ London, June i, 1892, Vol. 
29 of Complete Series; The Spectator^ Nov. 26, 1892, No. 3361, 
Vol. 69 ; The Times (London), Friday, May 20, 1892, page 10, cl. 6 ; 
The Saturday Review^ May 28 and July 2, 1892, and The AthetKBum 
May 28, 1892. 

(12) Compare with Wilde's attitude towards the stage, as ex- 
pressed in this interview, The Relation of the Actor to the Play, etc., 
Mr. Richard Mansfield's recent defence, Man and the Actor. This 
illuminating and brilliant essay may be found in The Atlantic 
Monthly, May, 1906, page 577. ** The art of acting," writes Mr. 
Mansfield, **is the crystallization of all arts. It is a diamond in 
the facets of which is mirrored every art.'* 



NOTES FOR " PARIS, THE ABODE OF ARTISTS " 

Page 147 

(1) This letter was written or, what is more probable, this state- 
ment was made on the occasion of the interview recorded in the 
preceding article. It is quoted under date of June 30, 1892, by the 
Paris correspondent of a London newspaper. 

(2) Wilde's great love of Paris is evident from the fact that after 
his release from prison, it was this city which seemed always to draw 
him to itself, from the more secluded localities where he was 
urged to remain by his well-wishers. Paris was the home of his 
early successes, and he numbered among its litterateurs and artists 
more friends and admirers than he could command in England. It 
was in Paris that he died. See Robert Sherard's Story of an Un- 
happy Friendship; the essays of Ernest La Jeunesse or Andre 
Gide in In Memoriam, O. W. ; and the articles of J. -Joseph 
Renaud in La Grande Revue ^ February 15, 1905; and Henry-D. 
Davray in Mercure de France^ June 15, 1905. 

(3) Samson et Dalila, in 3 acts {Op, 47), Weimar, December, 
1877. 

(4) See Note 4, page 258. 

Page 148 

(5) Athalie or Athaliah, the daughter of Omri, King of Israel, 
mother of Ahaziah and grandmother of Joash (II Kings, viii, 26 
and xi, 1-2). Athalie was presented first in 1691 before Louis XIV 
at Saint-Cyr. 

(6) Cf. The Censure and ^^ Salome,'*'* page 142 and Note 9, page 
258 fol. 



NOTES FOR '' SARAH BERNHARDT AND ' SALOME ' " 

Page 150 

(1) This sonnet was first published in The Worlds London, 
June II, 1879. Later it was included in Wilde^s Poems under the 
title of Phedrey one of Mme. Bernhardt's most famous roles. 

Of this role Wilde wrote: ** For my own part, I must confess 
that it was not until I heard Sarah Bernhardt in Phedre that I 
absolutely realized the sweetness of the music of Racine." — Z/V^nzrj/ 
and Other Notes. The Woman's Worlds January, 1888. 

Page 151 

(2) This letter was printed in The Times (London), Thursday, 
March 3, 1893. 

(3) The review in question appeared under Books of the Weeky 
Thursday, February 23, 1893, page 8, cl. 3: *' This is the play 
written for Mme. Sarah Bernhardt. It is an arrangement in blood 
and ferocity, morbid, bizarre, repulsive, etc." It is interesting to 
compare this criticism with the sympathetic review of Henry 
Norman, in The Illustrated London News, Saturday, March 4, 
1893, No. 281 1, page 278; also with Salome: a Critical Review , by 
Alfred Douglas, in The Spirit Laiiip, an Oxford Magazine y edited 
by Lord Alfred Douglas, No. I, May, 1893, Vol. IV. 

(*) Salo7ne, Drame en un acte. Paris, Librairie de 1 *Art 
Independant. Londres, Elkin Mathews et John Lane. 1893. A 
i2mo. with purple wrappers lettered in silver. Pp. 84. The 
edition was limited to 600 copies (500 for sale) with a small 
supplementary edition on hand-made paper, numbered and signed by 
the author ( at least 10 such copies were issued). 

The English version is Lord Alfred Douglas' translation, with 
illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley, first published in 1894 in an 
edition of 500 copies, small 4to, and 100 copies on large paper. A small 
i6mo. reprint of this (4^^' ^ ^%"^ was issued by the Paper 

263 



264 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Covered Book Store, San Francisco, 1896. A full-size reprint 
with a few extra plates, was published by Melmoth & Co., London, 
1904, in an edition of 250 numbered copies on hand-made paper and 
50 numbered copies on Japanese vellum. (See also Note, below.) 

The German versions are three in number : Hedwig Lachmann's 
translation, with illustrations by Marcus Behmer, 1903 (in its sec- 
ond edition) ; Isidore L. Pavia and Hermann Freiherr von Tesch- 
enberg's translation, 1903 (in its fifth edition) ; and Dr. Kiefer's 
translation, which was the stage version used at the Neue Theater, 
Berlin, September 29, 1903. Frau Lachmann's version was used 
as the libretto for a score of an opera by Richard Strauss, produced 
in Dresden, December 5, 1905. 

The Swedish translation is by Edv. Alkman, 1905, in an edition of 
500 copies, with a supplementary edition of 50 numbered copies on 
large paper. 

The Polish translation is by Hew. Gonsowska (Gasowskiej), 
1904, with four pictorial head-pieces and tail-pieces. 

The Spanish translation is by J. Perez Jorba and B. Rodriguez, 
with numerous illustrations by L. Valera and an introduction by 
E. Gomez Carrillo. See Note 10, page 259. 

The Russian translations are two in number : one by B. and L. 
Andruson, 1904, edited by K. D. Balmont; another, by the Baron- 
ess Rodoshevski, 1905. 

The play has also been presented on the Italian stage: ^^ Salome 
che Mario Fumagalli ed Edwige Reinach portarono trionfalmente 
in giro per I'ltalia."— Preface to De Frofundis, translated by Olga 
Bicchierai, Venice, 1905, page 6. 

Note. It is announced that John Lane Company will issue in July a 
new English edition of Salo7ne, i6mo., unillustrated, but with a 
cover design by Aubrey Beardsley. Following this will come an 
illustrated edition {6% " x 8'') with an introduction by Robert Ross, 
the pictures of Beardsley on Japan vellum and an ornamental cover. 
There will also be a portfolio of Salome drawings, in full-size repro- 
ductions (9"x 6^''), which will appear in the autumn. 



NOTES FOR " THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM " 

Page 157 

(1) This letter appeared first in The Pall Mall Gazette, Thursday, 
September 20, 1894; was printed later in The Pall Mall Budget, 
Thursday, September 27, 1894, New Series, No. 1357, 26th Year; 
and in The Suit, New York, April 6, 1895, page 4, cl. i. 

(2) The Shamrock was printed in The Weekly Sim, Sunday, 
August 5, 1894. From this paper it was copied in The Sun, New 
York, Sunday, August 19, 1894. Its appearance in the latter was 
noticed by the Reverend William J. McClure of Mt. Kisco, N. Y., 
who wrote a letter published in The Sun, New York, Thursday, 
August 23, 1894, calling attention to a scrap album in his possession 
which contained the original of this poem clipped from The Cork 
Weekly Herald, Mr. McClure showed several variations in the 
lines and asked to know how Wilde's name came to be associated 
with the verses. In an editorial, August 31, 1894, The Sun, New 
York, commented upon the above letter and requested its colleague. 
The Weekly Sun, to explain matters. In the meantim so long 
was the silence on the subject, that Mr. McClure addressed a sec- 
ond letter to The Sun, Monday, October 8, 1894. In this he re- 
ferred to a letter received from' Robert H. Sullivan, who had dis- 
covered in a volume, entitled Gathered Leaflets, this same poem 
above the signature of Helena Calanan (spelled with a single *' 1 "). 
As a matter of fact the mystery had already been cleared away in 
England. In brief, a poem entitled The Shamrock, signed ** Oscar 
Wilde," was claimed to have been discovered by a correspondent of 
The Weekly Sun (see the Assistant Editor's letter) in a Cork news- 
paper for 1888. It then appeared, however, that the author was 
Helena Callanan, a blind girl. A letter from her, dated The Asylum 
for the Blind, Infirmary Road, Cork, was published in The Weekly 

26s 



266 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

Surif Sunday, September 23, 1894, together with the poem as orig- 
inally written. It came to light that this was first printed in The 
Cork Weekly Herald y 188 1. From there, it had been copied by the 
Boston Pilot, The Sidney Freema^i, and The New Orleans Morni7tg 
Star, appearing later as a ** Cork Blind Asylum Poem" in a collection 
entitled Gathered Leaflets {Scattered Leaflets'), 1885. Such is the 
history of The Shamrock, Strangely enough the version given in 
The New York Sun varies from that of The Weekly Sun, from 
which it purports to be copied, and quite materially from the origi- 
nal of Miss Callanan. It is here reprinted from the first mentioned 
version as the least unreadable of the three, but even in this ver- 
sion, it is such doggerel as to make it difficult to understand how 
its publication could have been prompted by anything but malice. 
However noble the sentiment, it hardly comes within the category 
of rhyme, not to mention poetry. 

(3) This accusation, based on the implication of The New York 
/Sww, was made in The Weekly Sun, September 16, 1894. 

Page 158 

(4) This letter was printed first in The Fall Mall Gazette, Mon- 
day, September 24, 1894; was reprinted in The Fall Mall Budget, 
Thursday, September 27, 1894, New Series 1357 (as before). The 
first paragraph was reprinted in The Sun, New York, April 6, 1895. 

(5) The letter referred to, bears so directly upon the answer that 
it is here reprinted in full : 

**To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette: 

Sir: — Mr. Oscar Wilde's letter in your issue of yesterday 
calls for a few words of explanation from me. Let me in the 
first place say that we regret exceedingly the suggestion of pla- 
giarism. 

The story of the association of Mr. Wilde's name with the poem 
is a curious and perplexing one. Our own part in the matter is, 
however, easily explained. Some three months ago one of our cor- 
respondents sent to us in MS. a poem entitled The Shamrock, The 
name of Oscar Wilde was appended to it. Accompanying the poem 
was a letter in which our correspondent said, * I have copied this 



NOTES 267 

poem on the ** Shamrock " from an old Irish newspaper which I hap- 
pened on by accident. It is so beautiful and its sentiment is so fine 
and tender, that it came to me as a revelation. Oscar Wilde may 
be a flaneur and a cynic, but it is quite evident from this poem that 
deep down in his heart he has kept the fire of patriotism burning 
with something of a white purity. I think the poem is one which 
The Weekly Sun might well rescue from oblivion.' 

This then, Sir, was the way in which we came to give the poem 
publicity in The Weekly Sim^ and this the spirit in which the name 
of the elegant ornament of polite society came to be connected with 
it in our pages. Mr. Oscar Wilde places our ascription of the poem 
to himself, on the level of certain * scurrilous attacks * which haunt 
his imagination. The suggestion is characteristic. I am not con- 
cerned here to defend the poem. It may be and doubtless is assail- 
able, but even the most fastidious critic cannot deny that it is full of 
melodic charm and breathes a spirit of pure and exalted patriotism. 
So conspicuous, indeed, was its elevation of tone that we were re- 
luctant to believe that it could have been the product of a mind like 
Mr. Oscar W^ilde's, and were driven to take refuge in the charitable 
belief that it belonged to the period of a forgotten and generous 
youth. 

Faithfully yours, 

The Assistant Editor^ 
Weekly Sun Office, 

Tudor St., E. C, Sept. 21st. 

N. B, The above letter appeared in the same issues of The Pall 
Mall Gazette and Budget as Wilde's reply, and in The Weekly Sun, 
Sunday, September 23, 1894. 

Page 160 
(6) The gist of this controversy and this particular part of the 
letter is quoted (or rather misquoted) in The Critic, October 13, 
1894, No. 660, Vol. 25 of the Complete Series (London Letter). 
Apropos of his dogma that **the artist moves in a cycle of master- 
pieces," he is said to have been asked why it was, he had never 
collaborated. His reply was : " The cycle is not a cycle made for 
two."— T^y^^ Theatre, London, March i, 1895, page 185. 



NOTES FOR " DRAMATIC CRITICS AND 
AN ' IDEAL HUSBAND ' " 

Page 163 

(1) This interview appeared in Sketchy London, January, 1895, 
and is from the pen of Gilbert Burgess. It was reprinted under the 
title of A Highly Artistic Interview in The New- York Daily Tribune, 
Sunday, January 27, 1895. 

(2) The premiere of An Ideal Hitsband occurred at the Hay- 
market, Thursday, January 3, 1895. It was not issued in book 
form until 1899, at which date it was published by Leonard Smith- 
ers in an edition of 1000 copies, with a supplementary edition of 
100 signed copies on large paper and 12 signed copies on Japan 
vellum. The text was subjected to considerable revision prior to 
its appearance in the library edition. It is included in The Plays of 
Oscar Wilde, Boston, John W. Luce and Co., 1905, Vol. II. 

Page 166 

(3) Lady Windermere'' s Fan, at the St. James Theatre, Saturday, 
February 20, 1892; A Woman of No ImportancCy at the Haymarket 
Theatre, Wednesday, April 19, 1893; and An Ideal Husband^ 
already referred to. 

Page 167 
(*) Cf. Notes 12 and 13, pages 247-8, and page 108. 

Page 168 

(5) A Woman of No Importance has been issued in the following 
editions : 

I. A Woman of No Importance, London, John Lane, 1894, in 
an edition of 500 copies, with 50 additional on large paper. 

II. A Woman of No Importance, Paris, Privately Printed, 1903, 
in an edition of 250 numbered copies. 

III. The Plays of Oscar Wilde. Boston, John W. Luce and 
Co., 1905, Vol. I. There are translations in German and Italian. 

269 



270 DECORATIVE ART IN AMERICA 

{^)Lady Windennere^ s Fan has been issued in the following edi- 
tions : 

I. Lady Windermere' s Fan, A Play about a Good Woman. 
London, Elkin Mathews and John Lane, 1893, in an edition of 
500 copies, with 50 additional on large paper. 

II. Lady Wmder?7iere^ s Fan^ etc. Paris, Privately Printed, 1903. 
in an edition of 250 numbered copies. 

III. Lady Windermere'' s Fan, etc. New York, Samuel French, 
n. d. (1904). The text is that of the library edition followed by 
I and II. 

IV. Lady Windermere'' s Fan, etc. London, Samuel French, Ltd., 
n. d. This is the acting edition in its unrevised form. 

V. The Plays of Oscar Wilde. Boston, John W. Luce and Co., 
1905, Vol. I. There is also a translation in German. 

It is interesting to compare the actual opinions of the leading 
critics of England and America, few of whom have treated this play 
with favour. For comments of the Press and leading reviews, see 
the following : 

The Athenceum,^2Xi. 12, 1895; The Saturday Review, the same 
date; The Academy, Jan. 19th; The Lllustrated London News, Jan. 
I2th; The Times (London), Jan. 4th; The Theatre, Feb. I, 1895; 
Punch, Feb. 2, 189$ ; The Critic (New York), Jan. 26 and March 16 ; 
Life, March 28th, 1895 ; any of the New York daily papers for 
Wednesday, March 13th, 1895. The play was produced the night 
before the last mentioned date at the Old Lyceum Theatre, New 
York City. 

Page 169 
(8) Victorien Sardou (1831 - ) : Member of T Academic Fran- 
9aise June 7, 1877; author of Dora (1877); Divor^ons (1880); 
Fedora (1882); Theodora (1886); La Tosca (1887), etc., etc. 



Page 170 
(^) Purple was one of Wilde's favourite words and he used it often 
with tragedy, as **the purple dignity of tragedy." — The Critic as 
Artist, Part LL. ** I thought I could bear a real tragedy if it came 
to me with purple pall."— Z>(? Profundis* 



INDEX 



Nothing that actually occurs is of the smallest importance. 

—Phrases and Philosophies for the use of the Young, 



INDEX 



Abbreviations : 2 (K. i, 3)=page 2, first and third introductory 
Keynotes; A''.^ indicates that all following references are to the 
notes; i75(3> 6-Q)=page 175, notes 3 and 6 to 9 inclusive; 
Q.,=quoted; Q.i.i.,r=quoted in full; bibl.=bibliography; W.=Oscar 
Wilde; a change from comma to semicolon after a series of pages 
following Q., denotes that all subsequent pages contain allusions 
only: for example, in Q., 255(3), 272(9); 175(7), the first two notes 
contain quotations, the last an allusion only. 



Abbey, Mr., the theatre manager, 
A^., 194(7)- 

Abbruzi, a brigand from the, 52. 

Academe, the, 150. 

Academy, The, N., 176(9), 270(7). 

Acrobats, the grace of, 97-8. 

Actor, the, as interpreter, 32 
(K. 3, 4), 128 (K. 1-3), 130-2, 
136 (K. I), 171: N., 255(3). 

Adonais (Keats), N.j 209(12), 211 
(16). 

Adonais, Shelley's, Preface to, N., 
p., 58 foL: N., Q., 210(13-4). 

Advertisement, its value, 355 
should not be used to forestall 
the critic's or public's opinion, 
1 1 3-4: N., ''London Editor's" 
comment, 248(17) fol. 

^Esthetic Boom, **OW!" 's paro- 
dies of W/s poems, N., 177(14) 
fol. 

Esthetics, The New, xiv: W.'s 
theories and dogmas, xix, xxi— 
xxiii, 2 (K. 1-4), 40 (K. 3> 
4), 48 (K. 4, S), 64 (K. 
4), 88 (K. I, 2), 102 (K. 
4-6), 108, 118 (K. 2), 120, 122 
(K. I, 2), 126, 128 (K. 2, 3), 
132-3, 136 (K. 2), 154 (K. 3), 
167, 170: N,, 182(5), 244(12), 
246(4), 247(12) fol., 248(13). 

Ajax, 90. 

Alchemist, Ben Jonson's, 83: N., 
234(30). 

Alcott, Louisa, N., 189(8). 

Alkman, Edv., A^., 264(4). 

Alroy, Lady. See Lady Alroy, 

America, Lecture on, Q., 18. 



Amsterdam, the Jews* quarter of, 
49. 

Andover Review, The, N., 176(9). 

Andruson, B. and L., translators 
of Salome, N., 264(4). 

Anecdotes, of W., N., 193(4), 
216(28), 243(7), 267(6). 

Anglo-Indian's Complaint, An, N,, 
251(1). 

Anglo-Indians, 119-20: N., 251 
(1-3). 

Anstey (Thomas Anstey Guthrie), 
115. 

Apollo's shrine, 79: N., 230(17) 
fol. 

Ariel, 54, 132: N., 203(13). 

Arizona, the steamer, N., 176 
(lo-i). 

Arnold, Matthew, 81: N., 247(8). 

Art (general), xi, xiv, xvii— xxi, 
xxvii, xxix (K. 2), 2 (K. i, 4), 
3, II, 13, 26, 36, 45, 48 (K. 
3-5), 49, 52-3, 56 (K. 3), 64 
(K. 4), 88 (K. 2-4), 102 (K. 
4—6), 103—15 passim, 118 (K. 2), 
120, 122 (K. I, 4), 125—6, 136 
(K. 2), 139-41, 143, 147, 
152, 162 (K. 1-3), 163, 166-7, 
170-1: N., 182(5), 193(3), 
197(5), 198(6-10), 109(12, II), 
201 (2), 202(11— 2) foL, 243(10), 
244(19), 246(4). 

Art, American, xx, 2 (K. 4), 3—5, 
9, ii-y. N., 181(1), 185(13). 

Art, conditions of, 50, 88 (K. 4), 

102 (K. 4), 118 (K. 2), 122 

(K. I, 2), 167, 169: AT., 182(5), 
198(8). 



273 



274 



INDEX 



Art, Decorative xvii-xx, 2 (K. 
2, 3), 4-6, 9-12, 14-5, 29, 122 
(K. I, 2): A^., 183(9, 10), 184 
(11), 194(9), 207(5). 

Art, Dramatic. See Dramatic Art. 

Art, Illustrative, 122 (K. 3): N., 
254(6). 

Art, Pictorial, xxi, 10, 26-30, 40 
(K. 1-5), 43-46, 48 (K. 5), 49- 
52, 54, 88 (K. I, 6), 89-100 
passim, 139: N., 183(9, 10) fol-, 
184(11), 193(5), 194(6, 10), 
197(3, 5), 198(9), 199(12, I, II), 
201(2-5), 202(6), 214(25) fol., 
215(26), 226(21), 241(1), 242 
(4), 243(12) fol., 244(18). 

Art Schools, for children, xvii, 
14-^5: A''., 185(14-5, 17), 207(5). 

Arte of English Poesie, Putten- 
ham's, Q., 82: N., 233(27) fol. 

Artist, The, Q., 56. 

Artist in Attitudes, An, by Arthur 
Symons, Q., xi: N., 175(4). 

Artists' Models. See Models. 

Askew, Anne, 82: A^., her mar- 
tyrdom, 233(26). 

Atalanta in Calydon, Swinburne's, 
129. 

Athalie, Racine's, 148: N., 261(5). 

AthencEum, The, 67-8: N., 197(3), 
220(6), 223(14) fol., 224(16-7) 
fol., 260(11), 270(7). 

Athens, 89, 100: A''., 241(3) fol., 
242(4-6). 

Athos, 74: A''., 229(7) fol. 

Atlantic Ocean, W.'s disappoint- 
ment in the, N., 243(7). 

Atlantic Monthly, The, N., 260(12). 

Auld Robin Gray, Lady Anne 
Barnard's, admired by Scott, 
84: A^., 236(41). 

Aurelian Walls, 60: N., 207(6, 7). 

Aurora Leigh, E. B. Browning's, 
76: AT., 230(11, 13). 

Ave Maria Plena Grata, N., 241 (2). 



Baillie, Joanna, 85: N., her 

verses; Scott's epithet, 237(47). 
Ballad of Reading Gaol, The, N., 

Q., 213(23); 216(28). 
Balmont, K. D., editor of the 

Russian translation of Salome, 

N., 264(4). 
Baltimore, Maryland. N., 182(3). 
Barbauld, Anna Letitia, 85: N., 

237(45)- , , ^ , 

Barnard, Lady Anne, Scott s re- 
mark, 84: N., 236(41). 

Barrett, Lawrence, his admira- 
tion for Vera, N., 195(1). 

Basil-tree, the, 61 : A^., 217(28, 30). 

Baviad, William Gifford's, N., Q., 
237(44). 



Beardsley, Aubrey, N., 263(4) 

fol., 264 (Note). 
Beaudelaire, Charles, 45; Q., 49: 

A^.. 199(11). 
Beaumont and Fletcher, N., Q., 

209(12). 
Becky Sharp, 85. 
Beecher, Rev. Henry Ward, A''., 

entertains Wilde, 189(8). 
Beerbohm, Max, Q., xxvii: N., 

180(42). 
Behn, Aphra, 83: A^., her plays, 
verses, etc.; Swinburne's state- 
ment, 235(33). 
Bellew, Kyrle, for the part of 
Czarevitch in Vera, N., 196(2). 

Bernard-Beere, Mrs., A^., 195(1). 

Berners, the Abbess Juliana, 82: 
N., her life and works, 233(2$). 

Bernhardt, Sarah, the interpreter 
of Salome, 137; the greatest 
artist on any stage, 138; for 
whom it is the fashion to write 
single-role pieces, 139; pre- 
vented by engagements from 
giving an invitation perform- 
ance of Salome, 140; met 
W. at Henry Irving's; asked 
to have Salome read to her; 
at once wished to play title- 
role, 142; to produce play 
in Paris, 143; W.'s sonnet 
to her, 150; her desire to take 
part of Salome a source of 
pleasure to W., 151; the play 
not written for her, 152: A^._, 
her failure to produce play, as 
anticipated, 257(2); for whom 
Marcel Schwob adapted Hamlet, 
258(8); who inspired Salome, 
according to E. Gomez Carrillo, 
259(10); her acting in Phedre, 
263(1); for whom Salome was 
written, according to The Times, 
263(3). 

Bernhardt, Sarah, Sonnet to, 
Q.i.f., 150: A^., 263(1). 

Best of Oscar Wilde, The (1904), 
collected by Oscar Herrmann; 
edited by W. W. Massee, N., 
216(28). 

Bicchierai, Olga, N., 264(4). 

Birthday of the Infanta, The, N., 
Q., 255(4). 

Blei, Franz, N., 175(4), 246(6). 

Boccaccio, A^., Q., 217(30), 222 
(12). 

Bogue, David, publisher of W.'s 
Poems, N., 205(1). 

Boke of St. Albans, Juliana Ber- 
ners*, 82: N., 233(2$). 

Boniface, G. C, as the Czar in 
Vera, N., 196(1). 

Boston, Mass, xvi, 90; A^., 182(3), 



INDEX 



275 



188(7), 189(8, 9) fol., 190(10) 
fol., 191(11), 195(1;, 266(2). 

Boston Music Hall, N., 188(7). 

Boucher, Maurice, 132. 

Boucicault, Dion, N., 195(1). 

Brawn e, Fanny, W.'s sonnet on 
Keats' love letters to, Q.i.f., 56: 
N., Keats' love letters to: their 
publication; Mr, H. B. For- 
man's comment on publication, 
205(2) fol.; Mr. Sidney Col- 
vin's attitude, 206(2); sale by 
auction; quotation from letter 
XXXIX, 206^3). 

Brignole Sale, Palazzo, .V., 213(23). 

Briton, the typical, Tartuffe seated 
in his shop behind the counter, 
148. 

Brompton, 85, 100. 

Bronte, Emily, 85: N., her poems, 
239<j8). 

Brookfield, Charles, .V., 259(11) 
fol. 

Brooklyn, N. Y., N., 188(7) fol. 

Brown, Clharles Armitage, 66: .V.^ 
219(4); his life, 221(g) fol. 

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 58; 
the one great poetess whom 
England has given the world: 
by whose side Swinburne would 
put Christina Rossetti, 7^; ap- 
proachable only by Sappho, 74; 
the latter only a memory, the 
former an imperishable glory to 
our literature; The Cry of the 
Children, Sonnets from the 
Portuguese, 75; Vision of the 
Poets, etc.; her debt to Greek 
literature and Italy, -jS', the 
strength and sincerity of her 
poetry; the deliberate rugged- 
ness of her rhyme; its pleasur- 
able element of surprise, 77; 
her ideal of the poet's mission, 
with quotations, 78; as the 
wisest of the Sibyls; her influ- 
ence on the awakening of 
woman's song, 79; 80—1, 84, 86: 
N., the first really great poetess 
of our literature, 229(2); 
chronology of the poems men- 
tioned, 230(9—11); home in 
Florence, 230(12); first great 
English poetess; an admirable 
scholar, 230(13); her marriage 
and journey to Italy, 230(14); 
letters to R. H. Home, 230(15); 
her life's work "not reverie, 
but art," 230(16); 247(9). 

Brownins, E. B., Letters of, to 
R. H. Home, 77- N-, Q-, 
230(16); 230(15), 247(9). 

Browning, Robert, 130: N., 230 
(12, 14), 233(21). 



Bunthome, Reginald — in Patience, 

N., 176(12) fol., 188(7). 
Burgess, Gilbert, xxv; Q., 163-72: 

A'., 269(1). 

Burlington, The. A Monthly Maga- 
zine, edited by Helen B. Math- 
ers, .v., 216(28). 

Burlington House, 51, 96. 

Burnand, Sir Francis Cowley, 
xv: N., 176(10), 177(13). 

Byron, 58, 77: N., 213(22), 
222(12), 225(18). 

Caine, Hall, iV., 229(3). 

Caliban, 54: .V., 203(13). 

California, 14, 66: .V., 182(3), 
184(13) fol., 187(1), 188(4). 

Callanan, Helena, author of The 
Shamrock, Q., 155—6: N., 26? 
(2) fol. 

Cambridge, England, N., 197(2), 

Camelot, 72 (K. i). 

Canaan, a patriarch of, 52. 

Carew, Elizabeth, 83: N., pa- 
troness of poets, 23^(29). 

Caricatures, of W., xiv, xv: N., 
176(10), 177(14) fol., 182(4, 7) 
fol., 190(10), 257(1). 

Carlyle, 81: N., his rhetoric, 
232(19). 

Carpenter, G. R., ^'., 176(0). 

Carrillo, E. Gomez, N., Q., 
259(10), 264(4). 

Carte, R. D'Oyly, W.'s manager 
in America, 32: N., 176(12) ^ 
181(2), 190(10), 195(1), 196(2). 
See Letters, unpublished. 

Casa Guidi, 76: .V., 230(12). 

CcLsa Guidi Windows, E. B. 
Browning's, 76: N., 230(11). 

Catch phrases, used by \V. See 
Phrases. 

Cenci, Shelley's, 129. 

Censor, Lines to our New, Wil- 
liam Watson's, .V., 258(9) fol. 

Censorship, Government, over im- 
aginative literature; the arts, 
no; the drama (according to 
W.'s interviewer), 137—8; appar- 
ently regards the stage as the 
lowest of all arts, 139; allows 
the low and shameful in life to 
be portrayed, but suppresses en- 
nobling subjects from the Bible; 
its injury to actors, 140; bars 
the great religious operas (ex- 
amples cited), 141; yet allows 
the private individual to be 
caricatured on the stage, 143; 
147-8. 

Censure and ^'Salome,'* The, xxiv, 
n5, 137-43: N., 248(15); 
Notes for, 257-60; 261(4, 6), 
264(5). 



2^6 



INDEX 



Centlivre, Susannah, 84: N., her 
plays; Pope's comment, 236(40). 

Century Guild Hobby Horse, The, 
N., its history, 219(1); 220(7), 
224(16), 253(3). 

Century Magazine, The, N., 177 
(14), 208(10), 209(12), 214(25) 
fol., 216(26), 219(3), 225(18) 
fol., 226(21). 

Cestius, Caius, 58: N., 207(6, 7) 
fol., 211(10). 

Chain of Pearl, A, by Diana 
Primrose, 83. 

Chapman, Elizabeth R., 80: N., 
her poems; W.'s comment, 
232(18, XII). 

Chapone, Hester, 85: N., her es- 
says, 238(48). 

Charles I, of England: dress at 
the time of, 7; 83. 

Charmides, N., 241(3). 

Chelsea, 51: A'^., 199(12), 243(9). 

Cheret, 123. 

Chicago, Illinois, N., 182(3), 
190(10). 

Chickering Hall, N. Y., N., 
181(2). 

Childs, George W., N., 189(8). 

Chinese Quarter, the, at San 
Francisco, 14; A^., 185(13). 

Chinese Sage, A, Q., 146. 

Christ, on the cross, 139; 140. 

Chronicle, The Daily (London), 
N., 245(1). , , 

Cicero (Select Letters), the copy 
of, which W. used and anno- 
tated with copious marginal 
notes during his course at Ox- 
ford, N., 216(28). 

Cimon, 89: N., 242(5, 6). 

Cincinnati, Ohio, A''., 182(3), 
215(26). 

Clarke, Charles Cowden, 69: N., 
Q., 225(18); 22(9), 226(19, 20). 

Claude Lorraine, 29: N., 194(10). 

Cleopatra, 84. 

Coghlan, Aliss Rose, for the part 
of Vera; in A Woman of No 
Importance, N.. 196(2). 

Colonel, Burnand's, xv: N., 177 
(13). 

Colvin, Sidney, N., Q., 206(2), 
223(13). 

Commination Service, 54. 

Common sense, the enemy of ro- 
mance, 102 (K. 7). 

Cork Weekly Herald, The, N., 
265(2) fol. 

Corneille, Pierre, N., 235(34)- 

Corot, Jean B. C, 170. 

Correggio, 10: N., 184(11). 

Correggio, Antonio Allegri da. 
His Life, etc., by Corrado 
Ricci, N., Q., 184(11). 



Cowley, Abraham, 83: iV., 235(34). 

Craik, Mrs. George Lillie. See 
Mulock. 

Critic, The (New York), N., 
246(5), 267(6), 270(7). 

Critic as Artist, The. Part I, Q., 
18, 24, 40, 64, 72, 88, 154: N., 
Q., 232(20), 233(21). 

Critic as Artist, The. Part II, Q,. 
xi, xii, XX, xxiii, xxvii, xxix, 2, 
18, 32, 40, 88, 102, 118, 122, 
128, 146, 154, 162: N.. Q., 175 
(s)» 198(9, lo), 243(10), 246 
(4)» 255(3), 270(9); 175(7), 
179.(28), 180(38, 43), 251(3). 

Criticism, dramatic, lack of preju- 
dice necessary for, 136 (K. 2); 
its poverty in England, 143; a 
misnomer, 163; in our own day 
has never had a single success, 
164; its representatives in need 
of education, 168; they subor- 
dinate psychological interest to 
mere technique, 168 fol.; they 
believe it the duty of the drama- 
tist to please the public, 169 fol. 

Criticism, the function of, xxiv, 
24 (K. 4, 5), 40 (K. 5), 45, 
103, 105—6, no— 2, 114— 5, 126, 
136 (K. 2), 143, 162 (K. 4), 
163-4: N^ .198(9), 246(4). 

Cry of the Children, E. B. Brown- 
ing's, 75: N., 230(9). 

Crystal Palace, the, 43. 

Damascus, tiles of, xxi, 40 (K. 4), 
72 (K. i). 

Daniel Press, the, N., 215(25). 

Dante, 65, 76—7: N., 220(6). 

Dante, the, in which Keats wrote 
his notes, 65. 

Darmesteter, Mrs. Mary F. (Rob- 
inson), 80: A''., her works; W.'s 
opinion of her poems, 231 
(18, V), 

Darmont, Albert, 137. 

Davray, Henry-D., AT., Q., 214 
(23); 257(2), 261(2). 

Decamerone, II, of Boccaccio, 
translation of, A^., 217(30). 

Decay of Lying, The, Q., xi, xix, 
2, 24, 64, 72, 88, 102, 122, 128, 
136; xiv: N., Q., 201(3), 
212(19), 232(21), 2zz{22), 247 
(8, 12) fol., 248(13); 175(6), 

^178(25). , . , . 

Decorative Art %n America, xvu 
fol., I, 3-15: A''., 178(16, 21-2, 
24), 179(26, 32, 35); Notes for, 
1 8 1-5; the first delivery of the 
lecture, 181(1); 203(12), 207 

(5). 
De Goncourt, Edmond, 98: N., 
244(16-7). 



INDEX 



277 



De Goncourt, Jules, 98: N., 244 

(16). 
Delaroche, Paul, 45: N., 199 

(12, I, II). 
Delphi, 79: N., 2.30(17) fol., 

242(4). 
Denver, Colorado, N., 182(3). 
De Profundis, Q., ix fol., 48, 88, 

102: N., Q., 203(13), 270(9); 

175(1), 181(1), 214(23): in 

German, in French, 257(2); in 

Italian, Q., 264(4). 
De Profundis. Aufzeichnungen 

und Brief e, Max Meyerf eld's 

translation, N., 257(2). 
De Profundis. Precede de Lettres, 

etc., Henry— D. Davray's trans- 
lation, N., 214(23), 257(2). 
Detroit, Michigan, N., 183(9), 

184(10). 
Devonshire, Georgiana, Duchess 

of, 85: A^, her verses; Wal- 

pole's comment, 238(52). 
Dial, The (London), N., 219(4) 

fol., 220(6). 
Dickens, Charles, 118 (K. i). 
Diplomacy, adapted from Sar- 

dou's Dora, 169. 
Disraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Bea- 

consfield, his description of L. 

E. L., 85: N., 238(50). 
Divnrgons, Sardou's, 141: A''., 

258(7), 270(8). 
Dora, Sardou's, 169: A^., 270(8). 
Dorian, the grave, mode of verse, 80. 
"Dorian Gray" and its Critics, 

xxiv, 1 01, 103—16: N., Notes 

for, 245-9; 269(4). 
Douglas, Lord Alfred, AT., Q., 

226(18); 263(3, 4) fol. 
Dramatic Art, the canons of, xxiv, 

24 (K. 6), 32 (K. 2), 33y 36-7, 

128 (K. 3). 
Dramatic Critics and "An Ideal 

Husband," xxv, 161, 163—72: 

N., Notes for, 269—70. 
Dramatic Review, The, N., 205(1). 
Dream, On a, Keats' sonnet, N., 

220(6). 
Dress Reform (general), 43, 48 

(K. I, 2), 53: N., 197(4), 

207(5). 
Dress Reform, for men, xv-xvii, 

xxii fol., 6-8, 53: A/"., 183(8). 
Dress Reform, for women, 7, 8, 

52-3: A''., 183(6), 202(9, lo)- 
Dress Reform,, More Radical 

Ideas Upon, Q., 48: N., Q., 

202(9). 
Drummond, William, of Haw- 

thornden, 83. 
Dryden, John, 83. 
Dublin University Magazine, The, 

N., 207(5). 



Duchess of Padua, The, N., 

233(4)- 
Dufferin, Lady Helen Selina, 85: 

A^., her lyrics, 238(53, I). 
Du Maurier, George, N., 176(10). 
Dunciad, Pope's, 84: N., Q., 

235(32), 236(37, 40). 
**Dusenbury, Hugo" — in Puck, 

i\'., 177K-^)- 

Easter Day, N., 241(2). 

Eclectic Magazine, The, N., 175 
(6), 179(29), 198(6). 

Elizabeth of Bohemia, sister of 
Charles I, 83: A^., ''The Queen 
of Hearts" in Wotton's poem, 
234(31) fol. 

Elizabeth of England, Q., 82-3: 
N., her scholarship, transla- 
tions, poems, quotation from 
her ^'sonnet"; her letters, 233 
(27) fol. 

Elizabethan Age, scenery of the, 
29, 

Elpinike, 89: A"., 242(5). 

Emerson, N., Q., 199(12, II). 

Endymion (Keats), 56 (K. 2). 

Endymion, Keats', 83 : A^., 222 
(12). 

England, the home of lost ideas, 
136 (K. 4); its narrowness in 
artistic judgment, 142; its 
establishment of Public Opin- 
ion, an attempt to organize the 
ignorance of the community, 
146 (K. 3); where it is impos- 
sible to have a work of art 
performed, 147. 

English Illustrated Magazine, The, 
N., 241(1). 

English Poetesses, 71, 73—86: N., 
Q., 208(9); Notes for, 229-39. 

Epistle to Charles Cowden Clarke, 
Keats', A^., Q., 226(19). 

Eros, Sappho, the child of, 74. 

Essays, Criticisms and Reviews, 
N., 182(6), 229(2). See Wo- 
man's World. 

Essays in Miniature, Agnes Rep- 
plier's, N., 176(9). 

Ethics and the Arts, the relation 
between, xxi, xxiii, xxiv, 40 
(K. 4),48 (K. 5), 102 (K. I, 3), 
193-5, 107-10, 1 12-3: A/"., 246(4). 

Ethics of Journalism, The, xxv, 
153, 157-60: N., Notes for, 
265-7. 

Eton, 98. 

Every Day in the Year (1902), 
edited by James L. and Mary 
K. Ford, N., 216(28). 

"Exargasia, or the Gorgeous in 
Literature," Queen Elizabeth's 
"most sweet and sententious 



278 



INDEX 



ditty,'* so termed by Putten- 

ham, 82. 
Exercise, the only possible, to 

talk, not walk, 172. 
Exodus, N., Q., 208(9). , , 
Eyre, Sir Vincent, N,, 211(17). 

Fame and Obscurity, the differ- 
ence between, viii. 

Fancy Ball, as the basis of Art, 
52, 100: A^., 244(19). 

Field, Kate, A^., 189(8). 

Fifth Avenue, New York, 3, 8. 

Fisherman and His Soul, The, N., 

Q., 212(21). . . r, u 

Fitznoodle in America — in ruck, 
N., 177(14). ^, , . 

Flaubert, Gustave, A^., 212(19). 

Fletcher, 83. ^ ^ . 

Flockton, for the part of Prmce 
Paul in Vera, N., 196(2). 

Florence, Italy, 13, 27, 60, 76, 
150: A^., 215(27), 230(12). 

Forman, Mr. Harry Buxton, g., 
68: N., Q., 205(2) fol., 220(7), 
222(13) fol., 224(15-7) fol-; 208 
(10) fol., 215(25), 220(6). 

Fortescue, Mrs. Marion T., W. 
entertained by, N., 188(3). 

Fortnightly Review, The, xin: N., 
176(8,), 179(29), 198(6), 245(3).. 
See also Pen, Pencil and Poi- 
son, Poems in Prose, Preface 
to the Picture of Dorian 
Gray, and Soul of Man Under 
Socialism. 

Franzos, Berta, N., 246(6). 

Freeman, Edward A., 82. 

Freeman's Journal, The (Dublin), 
A''., 181(1), 202(9). 

Freer, Mr. Charles L., of Detroit, 
Mich., A^., 183(9), 184(10). 

French criticism, 112. 

French proee, compared to Eng- 
lish. See Prose. 

French Revolution, the, 3. 

French song, the graceful forms 
of old, 80. ^ T- 1 

Freres Zemganno, Les, by Ed- 
mond de Goncourt, 98: A^., 
244(17). 

Froude, James Anthony, 81. 

Fumagalli, Mario, N., 264(4). 

Fuseli, Henry, 94: N., his hfe, 
and art, 243(12) fol. 

Fusiyama, Mount, 44: N., 198(7). 

Gainsborough, Thomas, 26. 

Gamberale, L., N., 257(2). 

Garden of Eros, The, Q., 56. 

Garden of Florence, The, J. H. 
Reynolds', Q., 67: N., Q., 222 
(11), 224(17); 222(12), 223(14). 



Gathered (Scattered) Leaflets, AT., 

265(2) fol. 
Gaulke, Johannes, A^^ 246(3). 
Gaulois, The, 142, 147: -N., 

261(1). 
Gay, John, A''., 235(35). 
Gazette, The Saturday Evening 
(Boston), N., its attacks on W., 

N., 190(10) fol. 
Gazettes. See Pall Mall Gazette 

and St. James Gazette, and 

above. 
Genoa, 60: N., 213(23), 241(2). 
Gentle Art of Making Enemies, 

Whistler's, Q., x: N., 198(11) 

fol., 199(12, I, II), 243(9); 

175(2), 190(9), 197(1, 2), 

198(6). See ''Ten O'Clock." 
Gentleman's Magazine, The, N., 

226(20). 
Gibbon, Edward, Q., 85. 
Gide, Andre, Q., xxix: A^.^ Q., 

246(6); 261(2). 
Gifford, William, 85: N., Q., 

237(44). 
Gil Bias, 90. 
Gilbert, William Schwenck, xv: 

N., 176(12), 188(6). 
Giorgione, Basil — in The Colonel, 

N., 177(13). 
**Girl Graduate," her letter on 

dress reform, N., 202(10). 
Girometti's medallion of Keats, 

N., 215(25). 
Globe, The Boston Daily, N., Q., 

189(9), 190(10); 187(2). 
Glover, J. M., N.. 259(11). 
Goethe, Q., 102 (K. 4). 
Golden Gleams of Thought 

(1881), edited by Rev. S. P. 

Linn, N., 216(28). 
**Golden Screen, The," by Whist 

ler, N., 201(4). 
Golden Treasury, Palgrave's, N. 

Q., 235(31). 
Gonsowska, Hew., N., 264(4). 
Goring, Lord — in An Ideal Hus- 
band, 168. 
Gosse, Edmund, 83. 
Gounod, Charles, 141: N., 258(5) 
Graces, the flower of the, 74. 
Grande Revue, La, N., 226(18) 

241(1), 257(2), 261(2). 
Grant, General, A^., 189(8). 
Grave of Keats, The, N., bibl. 

Q.i.f., 216(28) fol.; 230(8). 
Grave of Shelley, The, N., Q. 

211(19), 212(21); 241(2). 
Gray, Dorian — in The Picture of 

Dorian Gray, 108. 
Gray, Dorian, The Picture of. 

See Picture of Dorian Gray, 

The. 



INDEX 



279 



Gray, John, 132-3: N., 255(5). 

Grazebrook, Hester — in An Un- 

, equal Match, 25—6; her dresses, 
27; 29: N., 193(2). See Lang- 
try and Mrs. Langtry. 

Greece, Ancient, its literature, 
art, language, dress, customs, 
etc., 7, 12, 25-7, 30, 48 (K. I, 
5), 49, 53, 74-6, 89, 92, 98, 100, 
139, 147, 150: N., 193(4, S), 
197(5), 202(11), 229(5, 6), 230 
(8, 13, 17) fol., 234(27), 241 
(2, 3) fol., 242(4-6). See Par- 
thenon. 

Greve, Felix Paul, N., 246(3). 

Grierson, Constantia, 85: N., her 
scholarship; elegant verses, 

^239(55). 

Grosvenor Gallery, 51. 

Grosvenor Gallery, The, a critique, 
N., 207(5). 

Guido Reni, 60: N., 2iz{2z). 

Hallward, Basil — in The Picture 

of Dorian Gray, 108. 
Hamilton-King, Harriet E., 80: 

N., her works, 231(18, II). 
Hamlet, N., 206(3). 
Hampstead, 97: N., 208(10), 

215(25), 221(9). 
Handicraftsmen, encouragement 



Herald, Halifax Morning, N., Q., 

193(4). 
Herald, New York, Q., viii, xx: 

J^-. Q-, 177(12), 242(7); 179 
{27), 184(10), 187(2), 189(7), 

270(7). 

Herodiade, Massenet's, 141, 147: 
N., 258(4). 

Herodotus (2 vols.), the copy 
of, which W. used and anno- 
tated during his course at Ox- 
ford, N., 216(28). 

Heu Miserande Puer^ a sonnet, 
Q.i.f., 61: A^., Its gradual 
growth; subsequent appearance 
as The Grave of Keats; col- 
lated with same, 216(28) fol.; 
241(2). 

Hilton, William, his portraits of 
Keats, A^., 215(25). 

Hitzen vase, a, 40 (K. 4). 

Hokusai, A^^., 198(7). 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, N., 
189(8). 

Homer, 74. 

Honour School, The, 107: N., 
247(11). 

Home, Richard Hengist, 77'. N., 
230(15-6), 247(9). 

Horwood, A. J., Q., 67-8: N., Q., 
223(14) fol.; 220(7). 

Houghton, Lord (R. M. Milnes), 



for, xvii, 4-6, 9, 13: N., 207(5). Houghton, Lord (R. M. Milnes), 

Happy Prince, The, N,, Q., 211 Q., 58; 66-9: A^., Q., 209(13) 

(19). fol., 225(18); 211(18); his life. 



(19). 
The Happy Prince and Other 

Tales, Q., 64; x: N., 211(19). 
Harper's Basar, N., 182(7); 178 

(14). 
Harper's Weekly, N., 182(4); 

178(14), 189(9). 
Hartford, Conn., N., 182(3). 
Harvard students, their treatment 



of W., xvj: N., 188(7). 
[awti 
fol. 



Hawtrey, Charles, 



i««C7) 



259(11) 



Haydon, his pen and ink sketch of 
Keats, 60: N., his life mask of 
Keats, 215(25) and 219(3); 
"Christ's Entry into Jerusa- 
lem," 215(26). 

Haywood, Eliza, 84: N., her 
novels and poems; Pope's satire, 

236(37). 
Hazlitt's lectures, Keats at, 60: 

N., 225(18). 
Hebrew literature, 139. 
Helen of Troy, 26: N., 193(4). 
Hellas, Sappho, the pride of, 74. 
Hellenism, an oasis of, a good 

circus, 98. 
Hemans, Felicia, 85: N., 239(56). 
Herald, Chicago, N., its attack on 

W., Q., 190(10). 



221(8); MSS. of Keats, 222 
(9); 222(10), 224(14, 17) fol. 

House of Pomegranates, A (the 
book), X, 123; its illustrators and 
their specific contributions, 124; 
The Speaker's description of 
the cover; W.'s view of its 
artistic beauty; what it sug- 
gests to W., 125-6: N., Q., 
212(21), 255(4); full text of 
title-page; description by the 
Chiswick Press, 253(3); 254(5). 

"House of Pomegranates, A," 
121, 123—26: N., Notes for, 

Howe, Julia Ward, N., 189(8); 
entertains W. on his Boston 
trip; defends him in print; ex- 
tracts from her letter to Boston 
Daily Globe; entertains W. at 
Lawton's Valley during his July 
visit to Newport, 189(9). 

Hunt, Leigh, A^, Q., 225(18); 213 
{22)y 222(12). 



Ideal Husband, ^ An, Q., 24, 102; 
163; the critics at sea over its 
significance; its psychological 



28o 



INDEX 



import; the bracelet incident 
not borrowed from Sardoii, 
1 68: N., W.'s presentation copy 
to Charles Shannon, 253(4); 
the first night; bibl., 269(2). 

Illustrated London News, The, N., 
263(3), 270(7). 

Importance of Being Earnest, 
The, Q., 102: A^^., W.'s presenta- 
tion copy to "the wonderful 
Sphinx," 212(19); its possible 
cover designer, 253(4). 

Impression de Voyage, N., 
241(2). 

Impressions, W.*s several, paro- 
died, N., 177(14). _ 

Impressions of America, N., Q., 
185(13, 17), 243(7). ^ 

Impressionist Painting, by Wyn- 
ford Dewhurst, A''., 184(10). 

In a Balcony, Browning's, 130. 

In Memoriam. O. W., Franz 
Blei's, A''., 175(4); translated 
into English by Percival Pol- 
lard, 246(6); 261(2). 

Incomparable and Ingenious His- 
tory of Mr. IV, H., The, N>, 

"Indian Civilian, An," 119: N., 
251(2). 

Individualism, W.'s ideas regard- 
ing, xxix (K. i), 18 (K. 7), 32 
(K. 3), 40 (K. 2, 5), 48 (K. 4), 
115, 124-5, 132-3, 136 (K. 3) 
146 (K, i), 147, 151-2, 160, 
162 (K. I, 3), 169-70: N., 246 

^ (4)? 249(19). , 

Individuality and personality, the 
chief characteristics of the mas- 
terpieces of our literature, 80; 
individuality, in art, 88 (K. 2, 
5); in acting, 130— i, 169—70. 

Ingelow, Jean, 80: A^., her works; 
W.'s comment on her Chess 
King, 231(18, VI). 

Intentions, xiii, xiv, xviii: N., 
175(6), 251(3); translated into 
French by J.— Joseph Renaud, 
226(18), 257(2). See also The 
Critic as Artist, Parts /and II, 
The Decay of Lying, Pen, Pen- 
cil, and Poison, and The Truth 
of Masks. 

Interview with Oscar Wilde 
(New York World), Q., 32, 
122. 

Interviews, with W., Q., viii, xx, 
xxix (K. 2), 32, 122, 138-43, 
163—72; xxiv, XXV : N., Q., 
198(10), 242(7) fol., 246(6); 
176(11), 184(13), 195(1), 226 
(18), 259(10). See Anecdotes. 

Introduction to Decorative Art in 



America, vii, ix— xxvii: N., Notes 

for, 175-80, 203(12), 207(5). 
Introductory Keynotes. See Key- 

notes. 
Ireland, 142, 148, 155—6: N., 181 

(i), 202(9), 207(5), 216(28), 

235(34), 238(53), 239(55), 241 

(2), 259(9), 265(2) fol., 266 

(5) fol. 
Irish Monthly, The, N., 207(5), 

216(28), 241(2). 
Irish Winner of the Newdigate, 

An, by the Editor of The Irish 

Monthly, N., 241(2). 
Irving, Sir Henry, 142: N., his 

portrait by Whistler, 201(4). 
Isabella, with reference to Keats' 

poem of that name, A''.^ 217(28). 
Isabella, Keats', A^, Q., 217(30); 

222il2). 

Isabella, Story of, Boccaccio's, 
translated by John Payne, AT., 
Q., 217(30). 

Israel, The Children of, 57. 

Italia, N., 241(2). 

Japan, 44, 51: AT., 193(5), 198(7)- 

^'Japanese Girls on the Terrace," 
by Whistler, A^., 201(4). 

Jewelry, modern, 13. 

Joaquin Miller, the Good Samar- 
itan, XXV, 17, 19—22: N., 178 
(19); Notes for, 187-91. 

Johnson, Hester (Swift's "Stella"), 
84: N., 237{^3). 

Johnson, Robert Underwood, N., 



Q., 209(12). 
Johns 



mson, Samuel, 84: N., 237(44). 

Jonson, Ben, 83: N., Q., 234(30). 

Jorba, J. Perez, A^., 264(4). 

Journalism, W.'s remarks on; its 
attacks on W., viii; xv-xviii, 
xxiv, XXV, 18 (K. 2—4), 19, 
21-2, 81, 103-16, 118 (K. i), 
130, 146 '(K. I, 3), 151, 154 
(K. I, 2), 157-60, 170: N., 177 
(14) fol., 189(9) fol-, 190(10) 
fol., 191(11), 196(1), 201(2), 
242(7) fol., 248(17) fol., 263 
(3), 265(2) fol., 266(5) fol. 

Judaea, 72 (K. i). 

Judas MaccabcEus, 'Rubinstein's, 
141: N., 258(6). 

Kansas City, N., 182(3). 

Keats, George, 65, 69: AT., his life, 

219(4) fob; 227(22).^ 
Keats, George, Memoir of, by J. 

F. Clarke, N., Q., 219(4) fol.; 

220(6). 
Keats, Mrs. George, 69: N., 

219(4). 
Keats, John, 3, 56 (K. i, 2); his 



INDEX 



281 



burial-place; inscription on his 
tomb; the cemetery described by 
Lord Houghton and Shelley, 58; 
his love of flowers, with cita- 
tions; the nature of his tomb; 
his medallion-profile; the beauty 
of his countenance as repre- 
sented by Severn and Haydon; 
the Priest of Beauty; compared 
to St. Sebastian, 59—60; W.'s 
sonnet to him, 61; his delicate 
sense of colour-harmonies shown 
in the Sonnet on Blue; original 
MS. of this in the possession of 
Mrs. Speed, 65; the gradual 
growth of this sonnet noted, 66; 
this growth shown by quotation 
i.f. and collation, 67—9; colour 
of his eyes; his sonnet to his 
brother, George, Q., 69; his re- 
mark Q., with reference to 
Katherine Philips, 83; read 
Mrs. Tighe's Psyche with pleas- 
ure, 85 : A''.^ his love letters to 
Fanny Brawne published, 205(2) 
fol. (see For man and Colvin) ; 
love letters sold at auction, 
206(3); his grave, with refer- 
ences to illustrations and de- 
scriptions of same, 208(10) 
fol.; his dying request to Sev- 
ern, 209(11); poems in his 
honour, 209(12); remarks of 
Houghton and Shelley on the 
cemetery, Q.i.f., 209—10(13-4); 
his love of flowers, with cita- 
tions, 210(15); The Keats-Shel- 
ley Memorial at Rome, 210(16); 
the committee of 1875, 211(17); 
his many portraits; the artists 
and articles concerning the 
same, 214(25) fol. (see Keats, 
pictures of) ; Haydon 's life 
mask, etc., 215(25—6); W.'s re- 
vised sonnet to him, Q.i.f., 
216(28) fol.; his Isabella; its 
source, 217(30); his resemblance 
to certain American relatives, 
recently living, 219(3); his re- 
lations with his brother George, 
219(4); his notes on Milton; 
admiration for Dante, 220(6); 
his Sonnet on Blue, Q.i.f., from 
the facsimile, 220(7) ^ol- (^see 
Sonnet on Blue); relations with 
Charles A- Brown, 221(9) fol.; 
with John Hamilton Reynolds, 
222(12); his personal appear- 
ance: colour of his eyes and 
haii; 225(18) fol. (see Keats' 
appearance) ; his relations with 
Ciiarles Cowden Clarke, 226(19) I 
with Joseph Severn, 226(21); 



his reference to Mrs. Tighe, 
239(54). Allusions to his 
poems, prose, and letters, with 
quotations, sources and biblio- 
graphical matter, occur, A'^., 
205-227 passim. 

Keats' appearance, according to: 
Mrs. Procter, 59-60 (Note), 69; 
Mrs. George Keats, C. C. Clarke 
and Severn, 69: N., Mrs. Proc- 
ter, C. C. Clarke and Leigh 
Hunt, 225(18); Severn, 226(18). 

Keats, pictures of by: Severn and 
Haydon, 60 (Note); Severn, 69: 
A^., Warrington Wood, 211(17); 
Severn, Haydon, Hilton, Giro- 
metti; bust by Anne Whitney, 
214-5(25—6); Severn, 226(21). 

Keats' Endymion. See Endymion. 

Keats* Epistle to C. C. Clarke. 
See Epistle. 

Keats' Isabella. See Isabella. 

(Keats) George, To my Brother, 
Keats' Sonnet, Q., 69: A^., 
227(22). 

Keats' Lamia. See Lamia. 

Keats' letter, a, to James Rice 
(Feb. 16, 1820), N., Q., 210(15). 

Keats' Sonnet on Blue. See Son- 
net on Blue. 

Keats, John, Letters of, to Fanny 
Brawne (1878), edited by H. 
Buxton Forman, A''.^ 205(2) fol. 

Keats, John, Letters of (1891), 
edited by Sidney Colvin, N., 
206(2). 

Keats, John, Letters of (1895), 
edited by H. Buxton Forman, 
A^., Q., 205(2) fol., 206(3). 

Keats, John, Letters and Poems of 
(1883), edited by John Gilmer 
Speed, A^.^ 220(5). 

Keats, John, Life, Letters and Lit- 
erary Remains of (1848), by 
Lord Houghton, Q., 58—9, 59—60 
(Note), 67, 69; 66: N., Q., 
209(13) fol., 225(18); 211(18), 
221(8), 222(9, 10), 224(14, 17). 

Keats, John, Odes Sonnets & 
Lyrics of, printed by the Daniel 
Press, N., portrait in, 215(25). 

Keats, John, Poetical Works and 
Other Writings of, edited by 
H. Buxton Forman, London, 
1883, N., Q., 224(15, 17) fol.; 
205(2) fol., 208(10) fol., 215 
(25); Glasgow, 1901, Q., 224 
(16); 220(6). 

Keats, John, Poetry and Prose 
by. A Book of Fresh Verses, 
etc. (1890), edited by H. Bux- 
ton Forman, A''., Q., 220(7), 
214(25) fol. 



282 



INDEX 



Keats and Severn, The Graves of, 
N., Q., 219(3), 22S(i8) foL; 
218(10). 

Keats in Hampstead, N., 208(10), 
215(25). 

Keats, Last Days of, Joseph Sev- 

. em's Account of the, Q., 59: 
N., Q., 209(11). 

Keats, Life of, by Sidney Colvin, 
N., Q., 206(2), 223(13). 

Keats, Portraits of, etc., by Wil- 
liam Sharp, N., Q., 215(26); 
214(25) fol. 

Keats' Sonnet on Blue, 63, 65—69: 
N., 182(3), 211(18), 215(25); 
Notes for, 219-228. 

Keats, Tomb of. See Tomb of 
Keats. 

Keats, Fragment on, Shelley's, N., 
Q.i.f., 209(12). See also Grave 
of Keats, Keats' Love Letters 
(below), and Name Writ in 
Water. 

Keats' Love Letters, On the Re- 
cent Sale by Auction of, a son- 
net, Q.i.f., 56: A^., bibl. of 
205(1); date and account of sale 
by auction 206(3). See also 
Fanny Brawne. 

Keats-Shelley Memorial, the pro- 
posed; its supporters and its 
object, 210(16) fol. 

Kelly, J. E., his etching of W., 
A^., 181(1). 

Kendall, May, 80: N., her works, 
231(18, Vll). 

Kendrick, Charles, his caricatures 
of W., N., 178(14). 

Keynotes, Introductory, viii, xxix, 
XXX, 2, 18, 24, 32, 40, 48, 56, 
64, 72, 88, 102, 118, 122, 128, 
136, 146, 150, i54» 162, 174, 272. 

Kiefer, Dr., N., 264(4). 

King Henry VIII, N., Q., 209(12). 

King Lear, 90. 

Kipling, Rudyard, criticism of, 118 
(K. i), 119-20. 

Koolapoor, The Rajah of, bust of, 
60: N., 215(27). 

Kottabos, N., 214(24), 216(28). 

L. E. L. See London. 

L. E. L., Christina Rossetti's, N., 

Q., 238(50). 
Labouchere, Henry, owner and 

editor of Truth, viii. 
Lachmann, Hedwig, N., 264(4). 
Lady Alroy, N., 212(19). 
Lady's Pictorial, The, N., Q., 

226(18). 
Lady Windermere's Fan, 168: N., 

253(4); burlesqued, 259(11); 

first night, 269(3); bibl. 270(6). 



La Jeunesse, Ernest, N., 261(2). 

Lamb, Edward, as Prince Paul in 
Vera, N., 196(1). 

Lamia, Keats', A^., 223(14). 

Landon, Letitia Elizabeth (L. E. 
L.), 85: A^^ her verses, etc., 
238(50). 

Lang, Andrew, 81. 

*'Lange Leizen — of the Six Marks, 
Die," Whistler's, A^., 201(4). 

Langtry, Mrs., her beauty ana- 
lyzed, 25; the charm of her act- 
ing, 26; her beauty as an influ- 
ence on the art of Albert 
Moore, Leighton, Whistler, etc.; 
her dresses in the part of Hes- 
ter Grazebrook, 27: N., her re- 
marks as to the model for Bun- 
thorne in England, 177(12); her 
American debut, 193(2); Wilde's 
comment on her beauty, 193(4); 
the fire which prevented her 
debut as originally planned, 
194(7); her trip on the Hudson, 
242(7). 

Leda, Helen, the daughter of, 26. 

Le Gallienne, Richard, N., 176(9). 

Leighton, Frederick, Lord, 27: N., 
194(6). 

Leland, Tames Godfrey, 15: N., 
185(15). 

L'Ermitage, N., 246(6). 

Lesbos, Sappho, the singer, 75: 

. N., 183(9-10) fol. 

Letters, W.'s unpublished, Q., 
xxvi, 32: N., Q., 178(15), 190 
(10), 195(1), 196(2); 180(41). 

Lexicographer, the great, Samuel 
Johnson, 84. 

Leyland, Frederick R., patron of 
Whistler; his "Peacock Room," 
N,, 183(9-10) fol. 

Life,N., 178(14), 270(7). 

Lippincott's Magazine, 113: N., 
245(3), 248(17). 

LitercB Humaniores, 107: N., 2^7 
(11). 

Literature, the rights of, 115; dif- 
ference between it and journal- 
ism, 154 (K. i). 

Literature and Dogma, Arnold's, 
N., 247(8). 

Literature and Painting, the rela- 
tion between, xxi, 40 (K. 4), 
48 (K. 5). 

Literary and Other Notes, Q., 
136: N., Q., 229(2), 230(13), 
231(18, VI), 232(18, IX, XII, 
21), 235(35), 263(1); 182(6), 
233(2$. See asterisk), 235(32). 

Literary Notes, Some, O., 122: 
A^., Q., 231(18, VIII) fol., 
233(24), 237(46), 254(6). 



INDEX 



283 



"Little White Girl, The," by 

Whistler, A^., 183(9). 
Lives of the Ccesars, of Suetonius, 

107. 
**London Editor, A," 11 3-4: N., 

his letter, Q.i.f., 248(17) fol. 
London Models, 87, 89-100: N., 

Q., 201(2), 202(6, 7), 214(24); 

202(8), 207(5), 217(29); Notes 

for, 241—4. 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 

.v., 189(8). 
Lord Arthur Savile's Crime and 

Other Stories, N., 212(19). 
Lord Byron and Some of his 

Contemporaries, Leigh Hunt's, 

N., Q., 225(18). 
Lord Chamberlain, the, his cen- 
sorship of Salome, 137—143. 
Lotus Leaves, Q., xxx. 
Louis Quatorze furniture, the 

gilded abyss of, N., 194(8). 
Louisville, Kentucky, 65 : N., 

182(3), 219(2-4). 

Madonna Mia, N,, Q., 214(24). 
Maeterlinck, Maurice, 141. 
Magdalen College, xxx: N., 247 

(II). 
Magdalen Walks, Q., xxx. 
Mahaffy, Professor John P., Q., 

89: A''., his writings, 241(2). 
Mallarme, Stephane, N., 199(11). 
Man and the Actor, Richard 

Mansfield's, A''., Q., 260(12). 
Manette Salomon, by E. and J. de 

Goncourt, 98: N., 244(16). 
Mansfield, Richard, A^., Q., 260 

(12). 
Mary, Queen of Scots, 82: N., 

8ueen Elizabeth's **sonnet" on, 
., 234(27). 
Massenet, Jules, 141, 147: N., 

258(4). 
^'Matchless Orinda, The," Kath- 

erine Philips, 83: N., 235(34). 
Maturin, Rev. Charles Robert, 

AT., 214(23). 
McClellan, General and Mrs., N., 

189(8). 
McClure, Rev. William J., N., 

26s(2). 
Mediocrities, only, progress, etc., 

160. 
Melodrama, modern English, 128 

(K. 3). 
**Melmoth, Sebastian." See **Se- 

bastian Melmoth." 
Melmoth the V/anderer, Charles 

R. Maturin's, A^., 214(23). 
Meltzer, N., 259(10). 
Mercure de France, N., 261(2). 
Meredith, George, as a warning, 



18: AT, his style and art, 232 
(21) fol. 
Meyerfeld, Doctor Max., N., 

2S7i2). 

Meynell (Thompson), Alice, 80: 
N., her poems, 232(18, XI). 

Michael Angelo, 13, 79. 

Miller, Cincinnatus Heine (Joa- 
quin), his letter to W., 19—20; 
W.'s reply, 20—22: N., biog- 
raphy of, 187(1); meets W., 
187(3) fol.; his visits to Lon- 
don, 188(4); 191 (Note). 

Millet, Jean Frangois, 26. 

Milton, 65, 84: A^., 220(6). 

Milton, Keats' notes on, N,, 
220(6). 

Milnes, Richard Monckton. See 
Houghton. 

Milwaukee, Wisconsin, A/'., 182(3). 

Mimes, Marcel Schwob's, N,, 
presentation copy to W., 258(8). 

Miners, Western, dress of, 8 
fol. : N., W. caricatured in the 
dress of, 182(7) fol.; W. adopts 
their head-gear, 183(8). 

Miranda — in The Tempest, 132. 

Mirandola, 150. 

Mission of Art in the Nineteenth 
Century, The, 65. 

Mitylene, N., 2^7(28), 230(8). 

Models, professional, 51—2; a 
modern invention, 89; none in 
America; Italian the best; the 
Frencn possess quickness of in- 
tellectual sympathy; the Eng- 
lish form a class by themselves; 
are without tradition, 90; usu- 
ally lack interest in art, 91; will 
pose for anything; intellectually 
Philistines, 92; their habits; 
their tariff, 93; their dull sea- 
son; the veteran of grand style, 
94; the Academy model, the 
**apotheosis of anatomy"; the 
Oriental models, who have lovely 
costumes; the Italian youth; the 
English lad, who never sits at 
all, 95; street gamins who ob- 
ject to posing; privileges of the 
English, 96; influence or. the 
English school of painting; 
cause of artificiality in modern 
art; their advantages and disad- 
vantages, 99; should be painted 
as of the modern age, or not 
at all, 100: N., 202(6, 7). 

Modern Actor, The, John Gray's 
lecture, 132. 

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, 84: 
A^., her verses, letters, etc., 
236(39). 

Monte Testaccio, 60: N,, 212(20). 



284 



INDEX 



Moore Albert, 2j, 48 (K. 5): N., 
his art, 193(5)- 

Morality, an attitude, 102 (K. 2); 
the social code of, 166 fol. 

More, Hannah, 85: N., her plays 
and verses; reference to W.'s 
review, 22^7 i<\^^. 

Morpeth, Mary, 83. 

Morris, Clara, Miss, N., 189(8); 
W.'s two letters to Carte, as 
regards her taking the part of 
Vera, 196(2). 

Morris, William, AT., 207 (Re- 
mark). 

Morrison, Lewis, as the Czare- 
vitch in Vera, N., 196(1). 

Morse, W. F., N., sometime man- 
ager of W.'s lecture tour in 
America; W.'s letter to him 
from Omaha, 190(10); from 
Boston; his suggestion to W. 
as to copyright of Vera, 195(1). 

Mr. Kipling and the Anglo-In- 
dians, 117, 119—20: A/"., Notes 
for, 251. 

Mr. Pater's Last Volume, Q., xii, 
174: N., Q., 232(19-20), 2ZZ 
(23); 176(7). 

Mr. Whistler's "Ten O'Clock/* 
39, 41-46: N., 175(2), 179(31- 
3), 180(36); Notes for, 197—200. 

Mrs. Grundy, that amusing old 
lady, 103. 

Mrs. Langtry as Hester Grase- 
brook, 23f 25-30: N., 180(40); 
Notes for, 193—4. 

Mrs. Langtry on the Hudson, N., 
242(7). 

Much Ado About Nothing, 108. 

Mulock, Dinah Maria, 80: A^, her 
poems; reference to W.'s re- 
view, 232(18, X). 

Munkittrick, Mr. R. *K., his paro- 
dies of W.'s Impressions, N., 
177(14). 

Muses, the, 72 (K. 3), 74, 79, 
130. 

Museums, xvii, 9, 11. 

Name Writ in Water, The, R. U. 

Johnson's, N., Q., 209(12). 
Narcissus, 22: N., 191(11), 177 

(14). 
Narcissus in Camden. A Classical 

Dialogue, Helen G. Cone*s, N., 

177(14). 
Nast, Thomas, N., 178(14); his 

caricatures of W., 182(4, 7) 

fol. 
Nation, The (New York), N., 

181(2). 
Neologisms, W.'s aversion to, 114: 

A^.. 249(18). 



Nesbit (Bland), Edith, 80: N., 
her works; W.'s review of 
Leaves of Life, 231(18, VIII) 
fol. 

Newcastle, Margaret, Duchess of, 
83: N., her writings; Pope's 
comment, 22)Si32). 

Newdigate Prize, The, Oxford, 

^N.,2iy{2g), 247(11). 

New Haven, Ct., .A^., 182(3). 

New Orleans Morning Star, AT., 
266(2). 

Newport, Rhode Island, N., 183 
(8); W. lectures at Casino; 
visits Mrs. Howe; receives 
many courtesies, 189(9). 

Niagara, 90: A''., W.'s several 
comments on same, 242(7) fol. 

Nightingale and the Rose, The, 
Q.,- 64. 

Nile, the glories of .old, 60. 

Nincompoopiana, xiv: N., 1^6(10). 

Nineteenth Century, The, xiii, 119: 
N., 175(3, 6,'7), 179(28), 229(4), 
251(3). See also The Critic, as 
Artist, Parts I and //, the De- 
cay of Lying, Shakespeare and 
Stage Costume, The True Func- 
tion and Value of Criticism, and 
The Truth of Masks. 

Nocturnal Reverie, The Countess 
of Winchilsea's, 83; Words- 
worth's remark, 83—4; W.'s ob- 
jection, A''., 235(35). 

Norman, Henry, N., 263(3). 

Norton, Hon. Caroline Elizabeth, 
85: N., her poems, 238(53, II). 

Note on Some Modern Poets, A, 
Q., 72, 118: A^., Q., 231(18, V); 
232(18, X). 

Obelisks, Egyptian, at Rome, 57: 

, N., their names; their positions 
defined, 208(8). 

O'Connor, Mr. T. P., 157-60. 

Ode to Solitude, Mrs. Chapone's, 
85. 

Ode to the Snowdrop, Mrs. Mary 
Robinson's, 85: A'., 239(57). 

Ode to the West Wind, Shelley's, 
N., 212(21). 

Odysseus^ 150. 

Omaha, Nebraska, N., 181 (i), 182 
(3), 190(10). 

Opera Comique, London, N., 176 
(12). 

Ophelia, A''., 206(3). 

Oregon, 19: A''., 187(1). 

O'Reilly, John Boyle, N., 189(8). 

Orientalism, its rejection of real- 
ism in art, 2 (K. 2). 

Oroonoko, Aphra Behn*s, Swin- 
burne's remark on, AT., 23S(33)« 



INDEX 



285 



Oscar Wilde. See Wilde, 

"OW!", New York World's sig- 
nature for its parodies of W.'s 
poems, A^., 177(14). 

Oxford, 83, 98, 107. 130: N., 
197C2), 215(25), 216(28), 217 
(29), 247(11), 268(3). See Mag- 

, dalen. 

Painter, the, his choice of sub- 
jects, 139. See under Art. 

Painter, To the, W.'s reply to 
Whistler, iV^ 199(12, II). 

Painters ana Pamting, Cyclopedia 
of, edited by J. D. Champlin, 
Jr., AT., Q., 243(12) fol. 

Painting, The History of Modern, 
by Richard Muther, N., Q., 
193(5); 1^4(10), .194(6). 

Pall Mall Budget, 157-60: N., 
182(6), 183(8), 184(10), 197 
(i), 20i(i), 257(1), 265(1), 
266(4, 5) fol. 

Pall Mall Gazette, 157-60: N., 
182(6), 183(8), 197(1, 4), 201 
(i), 202(10), 257(1), 265(1), 
266(4, 5) fol. 

Palmer, Albert M., the theatre 
manager, A^., 195(1). 

Pan, Goat-foot, 150. 

Pantechnicon, 53. 

Paradise Lost, Milton's, 84: N., 
220(6). 

Paris, 112, 123, 126, 131, 137-8, 
141-3, 147, 151 fol.:iV,, 182(2), 
211(19), 230(14), 245(3), 247 
(10), 257(2), 261(1, 2), 269(5), 
270(6). See Davray Gide, La 
Jeunesse, Renaud, Sardou, 
Schwob, etc. 

Paris, the Abode of Artists, xxv, 
145, 147-8 •* N., 259(9); Notes 
for, 261. 

Parma, 10: N., 184(11). 

Parodies, of W.'s poems, xv: A''., 
176(10), 177(14) fol. 

Parody, W.'s remark on. A/"., Q., 

^178(15). 

Parthenon, the, 22, 25, 45, 53: N., 
198(7), 241(3). 

Pater, Walter, his prose, ae form, 
81: A^., as music; as mosaic, 
232(20). 

Pater's Last Volume, Mr. See 
Mr. Pater, etc. 

Patience, W. S. Gilbert's, xv: N., 
176(12) fol., 188(7). 

Paul, John, Q., xvii; xvi: N., 
178(20). 

Pavia, Isidore Leo, N., 264(4). 

"Peacock Room," Whistler's, 10: 
N., described; formerly in the 
house of F. R. Leyland; nov/ in 



house of C. L. Freer, Detroit; 

references to accounts and illus- 
trations of same, 183(9, 10) 

fol. 
Peekskill, N. Y., A^., 189(8). 
Pembroke, Mary Herbert, Countess 

of, 82: N., her works 234(28). 
Pen, Pencil, and Poison, Q., 88: 

A^...Q., 244(12). 
Pennington, Arthur, N., illustrator 

of London Models; his portrait 

of Wilde, 241(1). 
People I Have Met, by Mary 

Watson, A^., 184(13). 
People's Library, Ogilvie's, N., 

182(2, II). 
**Perdita," Mrs. Mary Robinson, 

Petronius Arbiter, 106-7: N., 247 
(10). 

Pfeififer, Emily Jane, 80: N., her 
works, 231(18, I). 

Phedre, Racine's, A^.^ 263(1). 

Phedre, a sonnet, A''., 263(1). See 
also Sonnet to Sarah Bernhardt, 
and same in Index. 

Pheidias, 89: N., his art and 
fame, 241(3) fol. 

Philadelphia, Penn., 15: N., 182 
(3), 185(14, 15). 

Philaster, Beaumont and Fletch- 
er's, N., Q., 209(12). 

Philips, Katherine, 83: N., her 
verses; a play, 235(34). 

Phrases and Philosophies for the 
use of the Young, Q., 24, 102, 
272. 

Phrases, catch, used by W., xii, 
14-5, 20, 22, 25, 36, 45, so, 52, 
54, 57, 60-1, 72 (K. 3), 74, 80-1, 
91, 95, 100, 108, 115, 131, 142, 
148, 170: N., 175(7) fol., 184, 
(12-3) fol., 185(17), 188(6), 191 
(11), 193(3, 4), 198(9, 10), 
201(2, 3), 202(6, 7), 203(13), 
208(9), 211(19) fol., 212(21), 
214(24), 216(28), 217(29), 232 
(20-1), 233(24), 243(7, 8, lo-i), 
244(13, 18-9), 246(4), 247(12) 
fol., 248(13), 249(19), 255(4), 
269(4), 270(9). See Parthe- 
non. 

Piacenza, Donna Giovanna, Ab- 
bess of San Paolo, N., 184(11). 

Piazza di Spagna, 51: N., 209 
(12), 226(21). 

Picture of Dorian Gray, The, Q., 
24, 146 103, 105; its chief per- 
sonages are puppies; peculiar- 
ities of syntax; erudition, 106; 
its characters non-existent; its 
moral, 107-8; the moral the only 



286 



INDEX 



error in the book, 109; too 
crowded with sensational detail; 
too paradoxical in style — these, 
its two great defects 1 1 1 ; its 
publishers, 113; the story an 
interesting problem, not a 
''novelette," 114; 11 5-6: N., 
W.'s other replies to his critics, 
245(1); bibl., in English, 245 
(3) fol. ; in French, German, 
Italian and Swedish, 246(3); 
the novel, the result of a wager, 
246(6); its advertisement by 
Messrs. Ward & Lock; "Lon- 
don Editor's" comment, 248(17) 
fol. 

Picture of Dorian Gray, The, 
Preface to, Q., xii, xviii, 102, 
125, 128, 162: N., 176(8), 
178(23); sometimes termed The 
Credo or The Dogmas, 245(3). 

Pilot, Boston, N., 266(2). 

Plagiarism, the accusation of, as 
regards The Shamrock, 157; 
explanation of the assistant ed- 
itor of The Weekly Sun, 158—9: 
N., 265(1, 2) fol., 266(3-5). 

Plato, 72 (K. I, 2), 77. 

Play, a, its actable value nothing 
to do with its value as a work 
of art, 129; its spectator in need 
of a most perfect mood of re- 
ceptivity, 136 (K. 2); its rela- 
tion to the stage purely acci- 
dental, 171. 

Playgoers' Club, 129. 

Poe, Edgar Allan, 45: ^., 198(11). 

Poems in Prose {The Artist), Q., 
56. 

Poet, the, as a spectator of all 
time and all existence, 72 
(K. I). 

Poet and the Puppets, The, a 
travesty by Charles Brookfield, 
143: A^^ 25p(ii) fol. 

Poetry, English, its menace, 72 
(K. 4). 

Poetry, the joy of, 56 (K. 3), 64 
(K. 2, 3); its field, 140; the 
source of bad poetry, 154 
(K. 3). 

Poets and the Poetry of the Cen- 
tury, The, edited by Alfred H. 
Miles, N.y 205(1). 

Poets and Puppets — and Censors, 
N., 255(2), 258(3). 

Poets' Praise, The (1894), col- 
lected by Estelle Davenport 
Adams, N., 216(28). 

Polygnotus, 89: N., his life and 
art, 242(4). 

Pope, Alexander, 84, 86: N., Q., 
235(32, 35), 236(37, 40). 



Porta San Paolo, 57: N,, 207(6). 

Post, The Washington, N., 190 
(10) fol. 

"Postlethwaite, Jellaby," xiv: N., 
176(10). 

Pre-Raphaelites, the school of the, 
3, 27, 48 (K. 5). 

Prescott, Marie, W.'s expressed 
confidence in her acting, 33; 
34-7 passim: N., purchases 
Vera, 195 (i)j her losses; her 
letter of protest published in 
two New York papers; acts in 
the title-role, 196(1). 

Pretextes, Andre Gide's, Q., xxix: 

..N., Q., 246(6); 261(2). See 
In Memoriam. 

Primrose, Diana, 83. 

Prince Regent (George IV), 85: 
N,, 239(57). 

Princes' Hall, 41. 

"Princesse du Pays de la Porce- 
laine. La," Whistler's, N ., 183 
(9), 184(10), 201(4). 

Probyn, May, 80: A^., her works; 
W.'s opinion of her art, 232 
(18, IX). 

Processo e I'estetica di Oscar 
Wilde, II, by L. Gamberale, N., 
Q., 257(2). 

Procter, Mrs., on Keats, Q., 59-60 
(Note), 69: N., Q., 225(18); 
212(19). 

Prose, English, compared with 
French; its few masters; a field 
for women, 81; hope that they 
will apply themselves to it more 
than to poetry, 86; the im- 
portance of artistic effect, 106: 
A^.^ criticisms of the work of 
certain masters, mostly con- 
temporary, 232(19-21) fol., 233 
{22—3); woman's unstudied fe- 
licity of phrase, 233i24). 

Protestant Cemetery, the Old, at 
Rome, 58: A''., 208(10), 209 

(13) fol., 210(16) fol., 227{2l). 

Protestant Cemetery, the New, at 
Rome, A^., 208(10), 213(22). 

Psyche, Mrs. Tighe's, 85: N., 239 
(54). 

Public Industrial Art School, The, 
Philadelphia, 15, N., 185(14). 

Puck, 54. 

Puck, its cartoons and parodies 
of W., xv: AT., 177(14). 

Punch, xiv: N., 176(10), 177(13), 

^259(9), 270(7). 

Puppet and Playwright, N., 255(2). 

Puppets, the stage a frame fur- 
nished with a set of, 129; living 
actors or moving, 130; the 
advantages in, 131: N., 255(4). 



INDEX 



287 



Puppets and Actors, N., 255(1), 

258(3). 
Puttenham, George, Q., 82: N., 

Q., 234(27) fol. 
Pyramid of Cestius, the, 57-9: N., 

207(6, 7) fol., 211(19). 
Pythia, the, 79: N., 231(17). 

Queen, The Lady's Newspaper, N., 
229(1), 

Racine, Jean, 147 fol.: N., 261(5), 
263(1). 

Racine, Wisconsin, N., 182(3). 

Radcliffe, Ann, 85: N., her 
novels, N., 2^8(51). 

Ravenna, N., Q., 217(29); 241(2), 
247(11). 

Reading Goal, N., 212(19), 213 
(23) fol. See Ballad. 

Realism, detrimental to art in lit- 
erature, 102 (K. 6), 108; its 
danger, 118 (K. 2); the sign 
of an unimaginative mind, 167: 
N., 247(12) fol.; as a method, a 
failure, 248(13). 

Realism in Painting and in 
Drama, N., 194(10). 

Recollections of Writers by 
Charles and Mary Cow den 
Clarke, Q., 69: N., Q., 225(18); 
226(19, 20). 

Reinach, Edwige, A^., 264(4). 

Reine de Saba, La, by Gounod, 
141: N., 258(5). 

Relation of Dress to Art, The, Q., 
xxiii; 47, 49-54: N., Q., 243(8, 
11), 244(18-9); Notes for, 
201-3; 179(31-2), 180(37), 244 
(15). 

Relation of the Actor to the Play, 
The, xxiv, 127, 129—33: N., 
Notes for, 255; 260(12). 

Religion, as a subject for dra- 
matic treatment, 138, 140-1, 
147-8. 

Rembrandt, 49. 

Rem.us, the sepulchre, 57. 

Renaissance, The English, Lec- 
ture on, Q., xxii, 2, 18, 32, 40, 
64, y2, 136; New York Sun's 
comment, xv; "Ruskin and 
Water," xvi; 3: N., Q., 182(5), 
184(12), 188(6); 179(32); first 
delivery of the lecture; bibl. 
of same, 181(2) fol.; the West- 
ern tour, 182(3); at Rochester, 
187(2); at St. Louis, 188(5); 
at Boston, 188(7); at Brooklyn, 

189(7); 207(5). 
Renan, Joseph E., 115. 
Renaud, J.-Joseph, N., Q., 226 

(18), 241(1), 257(2), 261(2). 



Repplier, Agnes, N., 176(9). 
Republican^ The Springfield, N., 

its editorials on W., 191(10). 
Restoration, the, 83. 
Reynolds, John Hamilton, Q., 67: 

N., Q., 222(11), 224(17); his 

life and relations to Keats, 222 

(12); 223(14). 
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, Q., 49; 26. 
Revista d' Italia, N., 257(2). 
Rheinisch- Westfdlischen Zeitung, 

N., 246(6). 
Rhyme, as a spiritual element, 72 

Ricketts, Charles, 124: N., 205 
(i), 211(19); an illustrator of 
A House of Pomegranates, 
253(3); his connection with the 
vale Press; illustrator and 
cover designer of several of 
W.'s books, 254(5). 

Rise of Historical Criticism, The, 
N., 246(4) > 

Robert Elsmere, Mrs. Humphry 
Ward's, N., 247(8). 

Robertson, Johnson Forbes, for 
the part of Czarevitch in Vera, 
N., 196(2). 

Robinson, Mary. See Darmesteter. 

Robinson, Mrs. Mary ("Perdita"), 
85: N., 239(57). 

Rochester, New York, 19: N., 
182(3), 187(2), 188(7). 

Rodd, Sir Rennell, N., 179(30), 
210(16). 

Rodoshevski, Baroness, translator 
of Salome N., 264(4). 

Rodriguez, B., N., 264(4). 

Rome, 57—61 passim, 74, 79: N., 
207(6, 7) fol., 208(8, 10), 209 
(12-W3) fol., 210(16), 211(17, 
19), 212(20—1), 213(22), 216 
(28) fol., 226(21) fol., 241(2). 

Rome Unvisited, N., 241(2). 

Roosevelt, President Theodore, 
N., 210(16). 

Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf, Ren- 
nell Rodd's, described, N., 179 
(30). 

Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf: L'En- 
voi, Q., xxi, 40, 48, 64, 88: N., 
"Privately Printed"; reprinted 
by Thomas B. Mosher, 179(30), 
182(2, IV); 207(5). 

Ross, Robert, N., W.'s letters to, 
Q., 212(19), 214(23); repu- 
diates translation of The Satyr- 
icon, 247(10); W.'s letter to 
him as regards Salome, 257(2). 

Rossetti, Christina, considered by 
Swinburne to be the peer of 
E. B. Browning, with her New 
Year hymn by far the noblest 



288 



INDEX 



of sacred poems in our lan- 
guage; her subtle choice of 
words, rich imagery, etc., ad- 
mitted by W. ; her position, 
however, merely that of a very 
delightful artist in poetry, 73; 
lacking a music sufficiently pas- 
sionate and profound, etc., 74: 
A^.^ Swinburne on The Advent, 
229(3); Swinburne's dedica- 
tions and elegy, 229(4); her 
poem on L. E. L., Q., 238(50). 

Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, Q., 80; 
142, 170: A'^., Q., 229(3); 214 
(.23). 

Royal College of Music, the, 123. 

Rubens, N., 194(10). 

Rubinstein, Anton, 141: N., 
258(6). 

Rudyard Kipling and the Anglo- 
Indians, 117, 119-20: N., Notes 
for, 251. 

Ruskin, John, xxi; his style, 81: 
N., his eloquence, 233(23). 

Russell, Lady Rachel, 84: N., 
her letters, 236(36). 

Russia, Nihilistic, 34. 

Saint-Saens, Camille, 147: N., 
261(3). 

Sallust (De Catalinae Conjura- 
tione et de Bello Jugurthino), 
the copy of, which W. used and 
annotated on interleaves, dur- 
ing his course at Oxford, A^., 
216(28). 

Salome — the play — in French, its 
presentation prohibited in Lon- 
don, 137; Sarah Bernhardt 
charmed by it, 138; not written 
for her; in manuscript six 
months before she saw it; every 
rehearsal a source of pleasure to 
W., 139; its suppression an in- 
sult to the stage, 140; Sarah 
Bernhardt on having it read, 
immediately decided on the 
title-role, 142; in rehearsal for 
three weeks; costumes and 
everything prepared; decision to 
have premiere in Paris, 143; 
147; W. looks forward to Paris 
production, 151: N., the Paris 
premiere delayed; ^ finally pro- 
duced; its furore in Germany; 
production in Italy; privately in 
London; semi-privately in New 
York, 257(2) fol. ; used as 
libretto by Richard Strauss, 
264(4). See also below. 

Salome — the book — in French, Q., 
24; W.'s intention to publish, 
140; how it came to be written 



in French; W.'s desire to touch 
a new instrument (the French 
language) ; written in Paris some 
six months before intended pro- 
duction, 141; reviewed in The 
Times (London), 151; was in 
no sense written for Sarah 
Bernhardt, 152: A^., E. Gomez 
Carrillo's statement that it was 
written for Sarah Bernhardt, 
259(10); reference to reviews 
in The Times; also by Henry 
Norman and Lord Alfred Doug- 
las, 263(3); first edition; the 
editions of Douglas' translation 
into English, 263(4); the three 
German translations; the Swed- 
ish, Spanish, Polish, Russian, 
and Italian translations, 264(4); 
new editions announced, 264 
(Note). 

Salome, dancing, 139: A".^ 259(10). 

Salome, illustrations for, A^.^ 
Beardsley, 263(4); Marcus 
Behmer, L. Valera, and in the 
Polish edition, 264(4). 

"Salome,, de Wilde, El Origen de 
la, by E. Gomez Carrillo, N., 
Q., 259(10). 

Salon, Paris, the, N., 184(10). 

Salvator Rosa, A^., 194(10), 238 
(51). 

Samson et Dalila, Saint-Saens*, 
147: N., 261(3). 

San Francisco, California, 14: N., 
182(3),. 184(13) fol., 264(4). 

San Miniato, N., 241(2). 

San Paolo, Camera di, at Parma, 
its decorations, a history and 
description of, N., 184(11). 

Sappho, to the antique world a 
pillar of flame, to us a pillar of 
shadow; "The Poetess," 74; 
more flawless an artist than 
Mrs. Browning; never had 
Love such a singer, 75; 85: A^^ 
208(9), 217(28), 229(5); her 
works, 229(6); her native 
home, 230(8). 

Sarah Bernhardt and Salome, 149, 
151— 2: A"., Notes for 263—4. 

Sardou, Victorien, 141, 169: N., 
258(7), 270(8). 

Satire, on Wilde, xiv, xv: A^.,. 
176(10, 12), 177(13-4) fol., 
182(4, 7) fol., 188(6), 190(10) 
fol., 191(11), 258(9) fol., 259 
(11) fol. 

Satire, W.'s remarks on, 18 (K. 
i): A^., 188(6). 

Saturday Review, The, xxvii: N., 
180(42), 255(2), 258(3), 260 
(11), 270(7). 



INDEX 



289 



Satyricon, The, of Petronius, 107: 
A''., a translation attributed to 
W. ; repudiated by Ross, 247 
(10). 

Saunders' Irish Daily News, N., 

207(5). . 

Scene-painting and stage proper- 
ties, modern, 28-9: N., 194(8- 
10). 

Schwob, Marcel, N., his assistance 
to Wilde in Salome, 257(2); 
his works, 258(8^. See also 
Mimes. 

Scots Observer, The, N., 245(1). 

Scott, Sir Walter, Q., 84: A^., 

^ Q., 237(47); 238(49). , . 

Sculptor, his choice of subjects, 
139 fol. 

Sculpture, modern, 6, 7, 12. 

Seaside Library, Munro's, N., 
181(2, I). 

Seasons, Thomson's, 84. 

"Sebastian Melmoth" (Oscar 
Wilde), AT,, theory as to the 
origin of his nom de plume, 
213(23) fol. ; affixed to an Eng- 
lish translation of The Satyri- 
con, issued in Paris, 247(10). 
See The Satyricon. 

Self -Reliance, Essay on, Emer- 
son's, N., Q., 199(12, II). 

Severn, Joseph, Q., 58-9; 60, 69: 
N., Q., 209(11), 210(13), 225 
(18) fol.; his grave, 208(10); 
215(25), 222(9); his life; his 
friendship for Keats, 226(21) fol. 

Severn's Account of the Last Days 
of Keats. See Keats. 

Severn's Portraits of Keats, 60, 
69: N., 215(25), 226^21). 

Sevigne, Mme. de, N., 2^2>i2A)- 

Seward, Anna, 85: N., her elegiac 
verses, etc.; poems edited by 
Scott, 238(49). 

Shakespeare, 58, jSy 85, 90-1, 98- 
9, 108, 132: N., Q., 209(12); 
206(3), 255(3). 

Shakespeare and Stage Costume, 
N., 175(3). See also The Truth 
of Masks. 

Shamrock, The, by Helena Cal- 
lanan, Q.i.f., 155-6; xxv, 157, 
159—60: A''., its author, history 
etc., 265(2) fol.; 266(5) fol- 

Shannon, Charles, 124: N., as 
illustrator, 253(3); as coverde- 
signer of several of W.'s books, 
253(4). See also An Ideal 
Husband. 

Sharp, William, N., Q., 215(26); 
214(25) fol. 

Sharp, Mrs. William, N., 233(25). 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Q., 40 (K. 



i), 58 fol.; his heart said to be 
buried in the Protestant ceme- 
tery, 60; 129: N., 208(10); his 

. Fragment on Keats, Q.i.f., 209 
(12); Q., 210(13-4); the pro- 
posed memorial, 210(16); W.'s 
sonnet on his grave, Q., 211 
(19), 212(21); his death by 
drowning, 212(22); his crema- 
tion; his heart — where buried? 
inscription on his tomb, 213(22). 

Shelley's Adonais. See Adonais. 

Shelley's Cenci. See Cenci. 

Shelley's Fragment on Keats. See 
Keats. 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Poetical 
Works of, edited by H. Buxton 
Forman, A^., 213(22). 

Shelley, Recollections of, Tre- 
lawny's, N., Q., 213(22). 

Shelley, Life of, by John Adding- 
ton Symonds, N., Q., 213(22). 

Sherard, Robert Harborough, N., 
Q., 216(28), 249(18), 257(2), 
258(8), 261(2). 

Sherwood, Mrs. Robert H., N., 
189(8). 

Sibyl, 78-9. 

Sidney Freeman, The, A/"., 266(2). 

Sidney, Sir Philip, 82: N., 234 
(28, 30). 

Singer, Mr. H. W., Q., xxii fol.; 
xxiii: N., 179(34), 184(10). 

Silverpoints, John Gray's, N., 
255(5)- 

Sistine Chapel, the, 79. 

Sketch, N. 269(1). 

Smithers, Leonard, W.'s letter to, 
Q., xxvi: A^., 180(41). 

Sonnet on Approaching Italy, N., 
241(2). 

Sonnet on Blue, Keats', Q., by W. 
in a lecture at Louisville, 65; 
given to W. by Mrs. Speed in 
MS.; an example of gradual 
growth, 66; Q.i.f., from Lord 
Houghton's version; text col- 
lated with Mr. Horwood's ver- 
sion in The Athenaum, 67; 
H. B. Forman's comment on 
the latter; W.'s doubt as 
to genuineness of sixth line 
of that version; he calls his 
own MS. the first draft, 67-^: 
N., facsimile reproduction m 
The Hobby Horse; Forman's 
comment; facsimile, Q.i.f., with 
all variations, 220(7) foh; A. J. 
Horwood's version; his article 
and sonnet, Q.i.f., 223(14) fol.; 
Forman's remarks on both ver- 
sions, 224(15—6); Forman's 
punctuation of the sonnet, 224 



2go 



INDEX 



(17); Forman's reading col- 
lated with both Houghton and 
Horwood texts in capitalization 
and punctuation; remark on 
further variants, 225(17). 

Sonnet on Dark Eyes, J. H. Rey- 
nolds', last two lines of, Q., 67: 
A''., sestet, Q., 222(11); Q., 
224(17); 223(14). 

Sonnet Written in Holy Week at 
Genoa, N., 241(2). 

Sonnets from the Portuguese, E. 
B. Browning's, 75: N., 230(10). 

Sotheby, Messrs., the London 
auctioneers, A''., 206(3). 

Soul of Man Under Socialism, 
The, Q., XX, xxiii, xxix, 2, 18, 
48, 136, 146, 154, 162: A^., Q., 
201(2), 233(21), 249(19); 179 
(29, 32), 180(39). 

South Kensington Museum, The, 9. 

Spain, 34. 

Speaker, The, Q., 124-5; 123: N., 
-^7^i7^ 9), 253(1, 2), 254(7), 
See A Chinese Sage, "A House 

. of Pomegranates," and Mr. Pa- 
ter's Last Volume. 

Spectator, The, N., 258(9) fol,, 
260(11). 

Speed, Mrs. Emma Keats, 65-6: 
N., her resemblance to Keats, 
219(3). See also Sonnet on 
Blue. 

Speed, Mr. John Gilmer, N., 
220(5). 

Spenser, 58: A^., 234(28-9). 

Sphinx, the, 60: A^., its fascina- 
tion for Wilde; his many refer- 
ences to it, 211(19) fol. 

Sphinx, The, Q., with remarks as 
to publication, 211(19); illus- 
trated by Charles Ricketts, 
254(5); dedicated to Marcel 
Schwob, 258(8). 

Sphinx Without a Secret, The, N., 
212(19). See Lady^ Alroy. 

Spirit Lamp, The, edited by Lord 
Alfred Douglas, A^., 263(3). 

Springfield, Mass., N., 191(10). 

St. James Gazette, The, Q., 
104—7, no— 5; 103: N., Q., 248 
(17); 245(1, 2), 246(7), 248 
(14, 16-7). 

St. John, the Baptist, 140. 

St. John, N., Q., 206(4) fol. 

St. Louis, Missouri, 20: N., 
182(3), 188(5). 

St. Matthew, N., Q., 206(4). 

St. Patrick, 155-6. 

St. Paul, Minnesota, N., 182(3), 
196(2). 

St. Sebastian, 60—1: A^.. 213(23) 
fol., 216(28). 



Stage, the English, its future, 171. 

''Stale Joke, A," N., 189(9). 

"Stella," Swift's. See Esther 
Johnson. 

Sterne, Laurence, Q., 167. 

Stevenson, Robert Louis, 81: N., 
his delightful prose, 233(22). 

Stoddart, J. M., A^, 179(30). 

Strafford, Browning's, 130. 

Strauss, Richard, N., 264(4). 

Studies in Prose and Verse, Ar- 
thur Symons', Q., xi: N., 

^ 175(4). 

Style, the very condition of any 
art, 102 (K. 4). 

Suetonius, 106—7. 

Sullivan, Sir Arthur Seymour, 
A^., 176(12). 

Sun, New York, Q., xvi: N., 
178(17-8), 181(2), 188(7), 189 
(7), 196(1), 258(3), 265(1, 2) 
fol., 266(3, 4), 270(7). 

Sun, Weekly (London), Q., 157- 
60: A^., Q., 266(5) fol.; 265(2) 
fol., 266(3). 

"Swan of Lichfield, The." See 
Anna Seward. 

Swinburne, Algernon Charles, Q., 
xxiii, yZf 77) xxii, 129: N., Q., 
197(6) fol., 235(33); 229(3, 

4.)- 
Swift, Jonathan, 84: A^.. 236 

(42) fol., 2Z7iA3), 239(55). 
Switzerland, wood carving in, 12—3. 
Symonds, John Addington, A^.^ 

Q., 213(22); 208(10). 
Symons, Arthur, Q., xi: A/"., 

175(4). 
"Symphony in White, No. 3," 

Whistler's, N., 183(9). 
"Symphony in White, No. 4," 

Whistler's, 10: AT., 183(9). 
Syracuse, 25. 

Tartuffe, 148. 

Taylor, Tom, AT.,, 193(2). 

Telegraph, The Daily (London), 
Q., 129-30, 132: A^., 255(1). 

Tempest, Shakespeare's, 132. 

Tenderness in Tite Street, Whist- 
ler's, A^., Q.i.f., 199(12, I); 
W.'s reply, Q.i.f., 199(12, II). 

Ten Moments with a Poet, N., 
176(11). 

"Ten O'clock,'' Whistler's, Q., 
xxi, 49; xxii, 41—46, 49—51, 54: 
N., Q., 197(5), 198(7, 8), 202 
(11-12) fol., 197(2). 

Thackeray, William Makepeace, 
106. 

Thames, River, 98. 

Theatre, The (London), AT"., Q., 
267(6); 260(11), 270(7). 



INDEX 



291 



Theatres, American (New York), 

Abbey's New Park, A^., 177 
(i3)» 194(7)5 Berkeley Lyceum, 
N., 258(2); Lyceum (Old), A^., 
270(7); Madison Square, 29: 
N., 194(9); Standard, N., 176 
(12), 188(7); Wallack's, N., 
181(1), 193(2), 194(7); Acad- 
emy 01 Music (Brooklyn), N., 

189(7). 

Theatres, English (London), Bi- 
jou, N., 257(2); Comedy, N., 
259(11); Haymarket, N., 269 
(2, 3); Lyceum, N., 194(10); 
Prince of Wales, N., 177(13); 
St James, A^, 269(3). 

Theatres, German (Berlin), Neue 
Theater, A"., 257(2), 264(4). 

Theocritus, 84. 

Thirteen Cluh, Letter to the, Q., 
102. 

Thomson, James, 84. 

Thrale, Hester L. (Piozzi), 84: 
A^., her writings; Gifford's satire, 
237(44). 

Three Critics: Mr. How ells, Mr. 
Moore, and Mr. Wilde, G. R. 
Carpenter's, A^., 176(9). 

Tighe, Mary, 85: N., her poems, 

239(54). 

Time (London), A^., 216(28). 

Times (London), 119-20, 15 1-2: 
N., Q., 206(3), 263(3); 251 
(i, 2), 259(10), 260(11), 263 
(2), 270(7). 

Times, New York, Q., 18: N., Q., 
206(3), 243(7); 176(11), 195 
(i) fol., 270(7). 

Tite Street, 51, 104, 113, 116; N., 
199(12). 

Titian, 29: N., 194(10). 

Tolstoi, Count Leo, 107. 

Tomb of Keats, The, 55, 57—61: 
N., Q., 244(13); Notes for, 205- 
17; 227(21). 

Tomson (Mrs.), Graham R., 80: 
N., her works, 231(18, IV). 

Tosca, La, by Sardou, 169: N., 
270(8). 

Tragedie of Mariam, the Faire 
Queene of Jewry, A, by Eliza- 
beth Carew, 83: N., 234(29). 

Transcript, Boston Evening, N., 
Q., 188(7) fol., 189(9), 191 
(11); 187(2), 190(10) fol. 

Trelawny, Edward John, N., Q., 
213(22); 222(9). 

Tribune, New-York Daily, Q., 
xvii; xvi: A^., Q,, 198(10), 226 
(18); 178(20), 181(2), 189(9), 
195(1), 269(1), 270(7). 

Troy, 72 (K. i), 89: N., 193(4). 

True Function and Value of Criti- 



cism, The. Concluded. N., 

175(7), 251(3). See The Critic 

as Artist. Part II. 
Truth (London), A^.^ 190(9). 
Truth of Masks, The, Q., x fol., 

24: N., Q., 194(8), 201(2); 

175(3), 194(10). 
Turner, J. M. W., N., 201(3). 
"T. W. H." Episode, The, 21-2: 

N., 189(9) fol. 

Unequal Match, An, by Tom Tay- 
lor, N., 193(2). 
Urbs Sacra Sterna, N., 241(2). 

Valera, L., N., 264(4). 

"Vanessa," Swift's, 84. See be- 
low. 

Vanhomrigh, Esther (Swift's 
"Vanessa"), 84: A^., her rela- 
tions with Swift, 236(42) fol. 

Velasquez, 28, 43: A'"., 197(5). 

Vera, or^ the Nihilists, its keynote 
and aim, 33—4: N., when writ- 
ten; its production withdrawn in 
England; reasons for this; of- 
fered to several American man- 
agers; privately printed in 
America (1882); produced in 
New York by Miss Marie Pres- 
cott, who played the title-role; 
damned by the critics; withdrawn 
as a failure after one week's 
run; royalties received by W. ; 
the cast; "Privately printed" in 
England, 195(1) fol.; tJie cast 
which Wilde first attempted to 
secure, 196(2). 

"Vera" and the Drama, xxiv, 31, 
33-7: N., Q., 193(3); Notes 
for 195—6. 

Via Ostiensis, 57: N., 207(6, 7). 

Vision of Poets, E. B. Brown- 
ing's, 76: N., 230(11). 

Wainewright, Thomas Griffiths, 

N., 244(12). 
Wallack, Lester, 28: N., 177(13), 

194(7), 195(1). 
Waller, Edmund, Q., 84: N., Q., 

236(3S). 
Wandsworth, A^., 185(13, 17). 
Ward, Mrs. Humphry, A^., 247(8). 
Ward, Lock & Co., Messrs., 113: 

A^., 245(3), 249(17). 
Washington, D. C, N., 182(3), 

190(10) fol., 195(1). 
Wasted Days, N., Q., 214(24). 
Watson, William, A''., 258(9) fol. 
Webster, Augusta, 80: N., her 

works, 231(18, III). 
West, Beniamin, 45: N., 109 

(12, I, II). 



292 



INDEX 



Wharton, Anne, Marchioness of, 
84: N., her verses; Edmund 
Waller's praise, 236(38). 

Whistler, James McNein, xxi, xxii, 
10, 27-8, 41-46 passim, 4S (K. 5), 
4P-5I, 54, 91: A^.. 175(2), 177 
(12), 179(31-4), 180(36-7), 183 
(9, 10) fol., 100(9), i97(i-3» 
5, 6) fol., 198(7, 8, II) fol., 
199(12), 201(1, 4, 5) fol., 202 
(11-2) fol., 243(0). See also 

- The Gentle Art of Making Ene- 
mies, "Peacock Room," "Ten 
O Clock," and Tenderness in 
Tite Street, and below. 

Whistler's Gentle Art of Making 
Enemies. See Gentle Art. 

Whistler's "Ten O'Clock." See 
"Ten O'clock." 

Whistler's Tenderness in Tite 
Street. See Tenderness. 

Whistler v. Ruskin: Art and Art 
Critics, N., Q., 243(9). 

Whistler as I Knew Him, by Mor- 
timer Menpes, N., 184(10). 

Whistler, James McNeill by H. 
W. Singer, Q,, xxii tol. : N., 
179(34), 184(10). 

Whistler, James McNeill, Recol- 
lections and Impressions of, by 
A. J. Eddy, N., 184(10). 

Whistler, James McNeill, The Art 
of, by T. R. Way and G. R. 
Dennis, N., Q., 183(9), 201(5); 
184(10). 

Whistler's Lecture en Art, Mr., 
by Algernon C. Swinburne, Q., 
xxiii; xxii: N.^ O., 197(6) fol. 

Whistler, Mr., N.^Q., 197(3). 

Whistler's "Ten O'Clock^' Mr, 
See Mr. Whistler. 

"White Girl, The," by Whistler, 
N., 183(0). 

Whitman, Walt, N., 177(14). 

Whitney, Anne, her bust of 
Keats, N., 215(25). 

Why either Claude or Titian? N., 
194(10). 

Wilde, Oscar (Fingal O'Flahertie 
\yills), born October 16, 1854, 
died November 30, 1900; The 
Epicurean, the flaneur, ix fol.; 
poet, wit and dramatist; The 
Protean; the great paradox, x; 
"an artist in attitudes"; his 
character analyzed by Arthur 
Symons, xi; his assumption of 
various roles, xii; his most bril- 
liant mood found in Intentions, 
xiii; his practical side as ^ a 
teacher; satirized in Punch, xiv; 
ridiculed by Gilbert and Bur- 
nand; first trip to America 



(1882); his first lecture in New 
York; his reception; his dress, 
XV ; his treatment by the Press; 
by the public and by the Har- 
vard students, xvi; his Western 
tour; his second lecture in New 
York, xvii; its reception by the 
public and the Press; its rela- 
tion to Decorative Art, xviii fol.; 
his definition of Decorative Art; 
his teachings, xix; opinion of 
American Art (1883); of the 
improvement in house furnish- 
ing (1891), xx; his relation to 
Whistler; to Ruskin, xxi; Mr. 
H. W. Singer's strictures, xxii, 
xxiii; his hope for a national, a 
universal acceptance of Art; 
his insistance on liberty for the 
artist, xxiii; the true function 
of criticism, xxiv; his egotism; 
its sometime justification; his 
affectations, xxv; his child-like 
nature, his enthusiasm and lack 
of reserve; his resentment at 
the world's attitude; his gradual 
change from idealism to cyn- 
icism, xxvi fol.; dreamer and 
wit; Pater's comment; a verbal 
colourist, for whom Art formed 
the dominant note, xxvii; his 
decided views on Decorative Art 
(see Decorative Art in Amer- 
ica and Art, Decorative)', on 
the painter's art (see Mr. 
Whistler's "Ten O'Clock," The 
Relation of Dress to Artj Lon- 
don Models, Art, Pictorial, its 
Conditions, etc.); on Art in a 
broader sense, in its relation to 
literature, painting, sculpture, 
acting, etc. (see Art — general) ; 
on book illustration (see A 
House of Pomegranates and 
Art, Illustrative) ; on criticism, 
its field, its function, its 
rights (see Mr. V/histler's "Ten 
O'Clock," "Dorian Gray" and 
its Critics, A House of Pome- 
granates, Dramatic Critics and 
"An Ideal Husband," and Criti- 
cism.) \ on the drama, the stage 
and acting (see Mrs. Langtry 
as Hester Grazehrook, "Vera" 
and the Drama, The Relation 
of the Actor to the Play, The 
Censure and "Salome," Dra- 
matic Critics and "An Ideal 
Husband," the Actor, the 
Drama and the Stage) ; on lit- 
erature, poetry and prose (see 
The Tomb of Keats, Keats' Son- 
net on Blue, English Poetesses, 



INDEX 



293 



^'Dorian Gray" and its Critics, 
Mr. Kipling and the Anglo- 
Indians, The Ethics of Journal- 
ism, Dramatic Critics and ''An 
Ideal Husband," Literature, 
Poetry and Prose); on journal- 
ism, its uses and abuses (see 
Joaquin Miller, the Good Sa- 
. maritan, "Dorian Gray and its 
Critics, The Ethics of Journal- 
ism and Journalism) ; on ethics 
in relation to art and literature 
(see ''Dorian Gray" and its 
Critics, and Ethics) ; on the re- 
ligious drama (see The Censure 
and "Salome," and Paris, the 
Abode of Artists); on govern- 
ment censorship (see "Dorian 
Gray" and its Critics, The Cen- 
sure and "Salo7ne," Paris, The 
Abode of Artists, and Censor- 
ship) ; on individualism, in- 
dividuality and personality in 
the arts (see under those head- 
ings) ; on dress reform for men, 
women and children (see Deco- 
rative Art in America, TJie Re- 
lation of Dress to Art, and 
Dress Reform) ; on realism in 
the arts (see Decorative Art in 
America, "Dorian Gray" and its 
Critics, A House of Pomegran- 
ates and Realism) ; his be- 
liefs condensed and crystallized 
into the formulae of the New 
-3]]sthetics (see under that 
heading) ; presented in their 
most concise and epigrammatic 
form in the introductory key- 
notes (sec Keynotes) ; his repe- 
tition of a pleasing word, 
phrase, or thought (see 
Phrases, catch) ; his fine "word 
sense," N., ^207 (4), 208(9); his 
scholarship and care in revi- 
sion, A^.^ 216(28); his tours 
of Italy (1876—7); of Greece 
with Professor Mahaffy (1877), 
N., 241(2); the winner of 
the Newdigate Prize Poem 
and other honours at Ox- 
ford, A^^ 217(29), 247(11); 
hie three periods from 1876 to 
1891, A''., 207(Remark); his 
second trip to America for the 
production of Vera (1883), A''., 
195(1); the colour of his 
eye;s, N., 226(18); the butt of 
caricature and satire (see under 
those headings) ; his poems par- 
odied (see Parodies) ; his re- 
marks on America; on Niagara, 
San Francisco, the Atlantic 



Ocean (see Art, American, and 
under those headings) ; his claim 
that he was not English but 
Irish, 142, 148; his love 
of Paris, 147: A'^., 261(2); 
of the Sphinx^ A''., 211(19) fol-; 
his hatred of neologisms, 114: 
N., 249(18); his connection or 
dealings with Charles Godfrey 
Leland, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, 
R. D'Oyly Carte, Colonel Morse, 
Joaquin Miller, Mrs. Langtry, 
Miss Marie Prescott, Miss 
Clara Morris, James McNeill 
Whistler, Mme. Sarah Bern- 
hardt, Mr. T. P. O'Connor, 
Charles Ricketts, Charles Shan- 
non, Aubrey Beardsley, Marcel 
Schwob, Robert Ross, Robert 
Harborough Sherard, Andre 
Gide, Ernest La Jeunesse, etc., 
etc. (see under those names) ; 
his admiration for or comments 
on Keats, E. B. Browning, 
Christina Rossetti, George Mer- 
edith, Walter Pater, Ruskin, 
Carlyle, Rudyard Kipling, Rob- 
ert Louis Stevenson and the 
numerous English poetesses; 
Whistler, Albert Moore, Ccfrot, 
Millet, Velasquez, etc., etc. (see 
English Poetesses and under the 
names giVen) ; his self-pity after 
his release from Reading Gaol 
and adoption of the name "Se- 
bastian Melmoth," N., 213(23) 
fol. ; his poems, plays, novels, 
fairy tales, prose poems, letters, 
etc. (see under titles of same). 

Wilde, Oscar, unpublished letters 
of. See Letters. 

Wilde, Oscar, The Best of. See 
Best of Oscar Wilde. 

Wilde, Oscar, The Plays of, N., 
216(28), 269(2, 5), 270(6). For 
individual plays, see under their 
own titles. 

Wilde, Oscar. The Poems of, N., 
181(2) fol., 205(1), 214(24), 
216(28), 254(5), 263(1). For 
individual poems see under 
their own titles. 

Wilde, Oscar, in Pretextes, by An- 
dre Gide, Q.,xxix:A^.,Q.,246(6). 

Wilde, Oscar. A Study, translated 
from Pretextes, by Stuart Ma- 
son, 246(6). 

Wilde, Oscar, Author of *'Ra- 
venna," To, a sonnet by Au- 
gustus M. Moore, N., 241(2). 

Wilde, Oscar, et son ceuvre, by 
J.-Joseph Renaud, A^., Q., 226 
(18), 241(1), 257(2), 261(2). 



294 



INDEX 



Wilde, Oscar, II processo e I'es- 
tetica di, by L. Gamberale, N., 
Q., 257(2). 

Wilde, Oscar. _ In Memoriam. 
See In Memoriam. O. W. 

Wilde, Oscar. The Story of an 
Unhappy Friendship, by Robert 
Harborough Sherard, N., Q., 
216(28), 249(18), 257(2); 261 
(2). 

Wilde, Interviews with. See In- 
terviews. 

Wilde's, Oscar, Arrival, N., Q., 
226(18). 

Wilde's, Oscar, Mr., Bad Case, N., 
245(1). 

Wilde's, Oscar, Mr., Defence, N., 
248(14, 16). 

Wilde's, Oscar, Prototypes, N., 
Q., 191(11). 

Wilde, Oscar, Returns, N., Q., 
243(7)- 

Winchilsea, Anne Finch, Countess 
of, 83: N., her poems- Pope's 
debt to her; Worasworth's 
statement, 235(35). 

Windsor Forest, Pope's, 84. 

Winter's Tale, 85. 

Woman of No Importance, A, 
168: N., Q., 211(19); 196(2), 
253(4); the first night, 269(3); 
bibl. ; translations in German 
and Italian, A^., 269(5). 

Woman's Dress, Letter on, Q., 
48: N., Q., 202(10). 

Woman's Journal, The, N., Q., 
189(9). 

Woman's World, The, 72, 118, 



122, 136: N., 179(32), 182(6), 
229(2), 230(13), 231(18, IV- 
VI, VIII) fol., 232(18, IX, X, 
XII, 21), 233(24-5. See as- 
terisk), 235(32, 35), 237(46), 
254(6), 263(1). 

Women, as the writers of poetry, 
73—86; as the writers of prose, 
80-1, 86: A^, 233(24). 

Women's Voices, edited by Mrs. 
William Sharp, N., 233(25). 

Wood, Warrington, N., 212(18). 

Woodhouse MSS. of Keats, N., 
223(13). 

Wordsworth, 83; Q., 84: N., 222 
(12), 236(35). 

World, The (London), Q., x: A^, 
Q., 199(12, I, II); 175(2), 212 
(19), 216(28), 263(1). 

World, New York, Q., 32, 122: N., 
Q., 226(18), 243(7); 177(14), 
178(15), 181(2), 183(8), 188 
(7), 189(7), 190(10), I93(i)» 
194(10), 195(1), 259(10), 270 
(7). 

Wotton, Lord Henry — In The 
Picture of Dorian Gray, 106, 
108. 

Wotton, Sir Henry Wotton, N., 

, Q; 235(31). 

Writer, the, his choice of subject- 
matter, 140. 

Wroth, Lady Mary, 83: N., 234 
(30). 

Ye Soul Agonies in Ye Life of 
Oscar Wilde, illustrated by 
Charles Kendrick, N., 178(14). 



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